


Do You Mind?

by Esperata



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Canon Compliant, Ed Is Oblivious, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, The Iceberg Lounge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 36,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: The tale of how Penguin and Riddler met, became friends, and then something more."Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find."





	1. Do You Mind?

Everyone who was anyone turned up in the Iceberg Lounge eventually. It was the place to see and be seen. It was usually easy to pick the two categories apart; those who were hovering at the fringes watching and waiting for excitement, and those who stole centre stage. Often quite literally.

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot of course was an exception to this rule. It might be his club but he didn’t often feel inclined to make his presence known, preferring to keep an eye on things from the wings. Yet when he did step out among the clientele it always caused a flutter of excitement.

This evening he’d spotted another curiosity sitting at the bar breaking the expected pattern of behaviour. He frowned as he considered the man. Truthfully there was little reason for anyone else to have recognised him. Unlike a lot of their Rogues Gallery, this man hadn’t publicised himself to Gotham. Yet to all the big names in the criminal fraternity he already had a degree of notoriety. He had after all escaped the clutches of the Bat.

If Penguin had considered the matter then he would have expected the debutant to have done one of two things; give up his costume or up his game. That was what every aspiring crook in Gotham had to do. Once they committed their first crime it was either a choice of reform or repeat. Yet the man was sitting there quite quietly, gently discouraging conversation, seemingly not drawing attention to himself.

Which argued for the former proposition… except for the fact he was decked out in a bright green suit complete with bowler hat. And he certainly was not flying under the radar by visiting the Iceberg.

Curious now despite himself, Penguin decided the only way to get any answers would be to approach the mystery head on.

A faint murmur of interest broke out as he made his way across the floor of the Lounge and he was aware of nearly every pair of eyes in the room marking his progress. Every pair except the ones belonging to the man he was aiming for. Even as he came to a stop just behind his shoulder, the Riddler didn’t look round from his drink.

Oswald tried coughing politely for attention before giving up and asking directly, 

“Do you mind?”

That finally bought him his attention and he smiled smugly at the sight of Penguin gesturing to the stool next to him.

“Be my guest,” he offered.

Penguin huffed as he pulled himself onto the seat.

“I believe you are forgetting whose establishment you are in,” he said pointedly. “It’s _you_ who are _my_ guest.”

“Well in that case,” his guest drawled. “I’ll have another grasshopper. Thank you.”

Penguin couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity.

“At least you’re polite,” he relented, gesturing for the bartender to bring them another round.

“The manners do maketh the man.”

“Quite so.” Penguin inclined his head in agreement.

They fell silent as their drinks were served until they were left alone again. By which time Oswald had considered what he should say to start his interrogation.

“I’ve seen Mad Hatters and Mad Bombers. Some have endured, others have not. You however did something other haven’t managed. You escaped the Bat.”

A glass was raised in toast as an acknowledgement to the implicit compliment. Penguin took a sip of his own wine, glad to have struck the right note so far. Honey caught more flies than vinegar after all.

“Which leads me to wonder what you’re doing in such a public venue,” he queried.

“I thought this was the one safe place for criminals in Gotham,” Nygma countered.

Penguin nodded vaguely before replying.

“True. I certainly don’t call in the police – as long as everyone behaves appropriately – and most of the clientele know better than to disrupt the evening with such unpleasantness. They’re mostly here on the hope of seeing someone famous so it would be counterproductive. It’s the promotion I’m currently building my club’s reputation upon. Yet I will offer no protection if certain vigilantes choose to show up.”

He finally turned to fully look at Penguin.

“I know you have an unofficial deal with the GCPD. I presume they don’t disrupt your business as long as you’re co-operative in their inquiries? I would imagine the same is true to a degree for the Batman. Either way they won’t upset the status quo for a single crime of revenge perpetrated by a minor unknown.”

Penguin frowned, not happy at being summed up so easily.

“If I have any agreements at all,” he replied, “it very much relies on keeping the Iceberg Lounge free from outright criminal activity. No clandestine meetings. No transfers of stolen goods. Nothing illegal.”

Nygma held his hands palm upwards in a gesture of surrender.

“Of course. I assure you I have no nefarious intentions. I have left all that behind. No more Riddler.”

For a brief moment Penguin merely assessed him, trying to gauge how genuine his promise was.

“Then may I enquire what you _are_ doing here? It seems an unlikely choice for someone wanted by the police to enjoy a quiet drink.”

“I… need advice.”

The hesitance in the answer caught Oswald’s interest. It was easily apparent Nygma wasn’t a man who asked this lightly. As he remained silent and listening though, Edward licked his lips and continued.

“I was used and betrayed because I lacked the experience at the time to know better. My revenge against Mockridge was my priority but it remains incomplete while my knowledge is still lacking. I may well be the smartest man in Gotham – the world probably – but I am still learning when it comes to how crime and business operate. Otherwise my revenge would have left Mockridge penniless and revealed as the crook he is.”

As he seethed Penguin took a second to absorb that admission.

“You want me to guide you in the art of business management and criminal involvement?”

“Who better?” Edward responded at once. “You said yourself, you keep the Iceberg Lounge operational just within the bounds of legality. And very profitably too by all accounts. It’s the hottest new thing in Gotham. Yet you’re also well respected within the underworld. A feat no other rogue here can claim to pull off.”

Penguin couldn’t help but preen slightly at the praise.

“But what would I get in return for my assistance?”

“Access to the greatest brain in existence,” Nygma offered easily. “Plus my knowledge of computer software is unparalleled. My minotaur game is still unbeaten. I have no doubt I could upgrade your security so its virtually unbreakable.”

Penguin ran a hand over his chin as he considered the request.

“And you’re determined not to take up the mantle of Riddler?” he queried.

“That persona is no longer required. You shall be dealing solely with Edward Nygma.”

“We shall see,” Penguin agreed quietly.


	2. And Do As Adversaries Do In Law

If he had thought about it, Edward would have expected to find Penguin somehow more dressed down. Maybe sans the waistcoat at least. While it was true he was not wearing his trademark top hat he was otherwise as perfectly put together as if ready to face the public. Did he ever shed his public persona? Maybe he saw no distinction between Oswald Cobblepot and Penguin.

As he approached the man at his office desk Edward cast his gaze over the only newly exposed feature – the long strands of nevertheless thinning hair. From his research he knew Penguin couldn’t be more than five – ten at the most – years older than him so it was clearly hereditary hair loss rather than aging.

With an unconscious smug grin Ed ran a hand through his own fiery locks which maintained their thickness. He may not be thankful to his father for much but apparently a full head of hair might be the one generous gift from him.

Penguin’s gaze snapped up to him.

“Ah, Nygma. Punctual I see.”

“Time is money,” Ed quoted easily as he took the seat opposite. “Isn’t that what they say?”

“Perhaps. Although I prefer to think of it as common courtesy.”

Ed inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment already casting his eye over the various books and papers spread out before them.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“I thought about what you said and realised we should focus on the root of your problem. The law and more importantly its loopholes. That was what Mockridge used to exploit your services. If you want to beat him at his own game then that’s where you need to improve.”

“If I can catch him once upon the hip I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.”

The quotation brought a look of surprise to Penguin’s face.

“The bard? I would not have expected a computer programmer to be versed in the classics.”

Nygma’s nostrils flared in irritation.

“Being skilled in one area does not preclude an interest in others.”

“Of course not,” Penguin soothed apologetically. “Everyone should have a breadth of interests. I am simply unaccustomed to dealing with anyone so well rounded.”

Briefly Ed considered a dig at Penguin’s own well rounded physique before realising it would be counterproductive. Instead he brought their conversation back on track.

“So what are all these?” he gestured to the items gathered between them.

Penguin too returned his attention to his desk.

“These,” he stated. “Are a range of business crib sheets and a few of my own ledgers. The crib sheets itemise the key legal points of running a legitimate business. The ledgers demonstrate how they can be… circumnavigated.”

Edward nodded and pulled one of the nearest sheets towards him. It was headed ‘Employees Rights’. He scanned through it. As he was doing so, Penguin rummaged round until he found another sheet and passed that across. Edward took it instinctively and glanced at the title. ‘Employees Rights: what a manager needs to know’.

He frowned as he cast his glance back and forth between them. While they were broadly the same, the manager’s guide had additional notations such as ‘at the manager’s discretion’ underlined next to the original text.

“I don’t understand,” Edward finally admitted. “What are you showing me?”

Penguin steepled his hands and looked at him contemplatively over the top of them.

“Employees always feel they know their rights,” he began. “And to a degree they _do_. Its that final degree that’s important though. In the majority of cases they will have read the synopsis of the law which summarises what they should expect. That’s the first sheet you have there. However, if they were to read the _actual_ law they would realise most of those ‘rights’ are not as concrete as they believe. A considerate manager will probably honour the spirit of the law – as I try to do here in the Lounge – in order to keep employees loyal and productive. Legally though, I would be perfectly within my rights to deny nearly every so called ‘right’ they believe they have. Although clearly it would not be in my interests long-term to do so.”

“Which is why Mockridge was able to make his money off my genius without any fear of retribution.”

“Exactly. If you’re really serious about dealing with business men on their own terms then you need to know the law inside out. Mostly I have a team of lawyers now who are, for one reason or another, trustworthy. Yet I still know those areas of the law intimately where I operate. How else could I navigate the darker areas without tripping up?”

Nygma nodded thoughtfully.

“Which areas should I prioritise if I want to dismantle the empire Mockridge built from my idea?”

“Not employee law.” Penguin leaned over and retrieved the papers from Ed’s unresisting hand. “That boat has sailed for you. What you need to research now is stocks and shares. The best way to destroy a business is through the buying and discrediting of its shares.”

“That sounds expensive.”

Penguin shrugged.

“All business is expensive one way or another. However if you play things right then it doesn’t have to cost as much as you might think. As value in the shares drop then you can snap them up cheap. After that you can either completely destroy everything he’s built or even repurpose it for your own ends.”

The suggestion struck Edward sharply. He’d considered running Mockridge into the gutter but he’d never considered taking his business for his own. That was something he would have to think about further.

“But those are considerations for when you understand the rules of the game,” Penguin continued oblivious to the revelation Ed was experiencing even while mirroring his thoughts. “You need to understand what sort of sharks you’ll be dealing with before getting in the water with him.”

“Research then,” Ed agreed. “I appreciate the advice.”

“There’s more to business management than can be learned in books,” Penguin cautioned. “No book will teach you how to undermine confidence in a company. How to manipulate people’s loyalty.”

Nygma smiled across at him.

“Rest assured I will be back once I’ve studied the basic laws of practise. I have no doubt there is much more for me to learn from you.”


	3. The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing

Penguin wasn’t sure when he’d see Edward Nygma again. Or even if. It was one thing to decide you wanted to ruin someone economically speaking but another thing to bring it about. Not everyone had the aptitude for business studies and Penguin had deliberately dropped him in the metaphorical deep end. This was Gotham after all. You either sank or swam. He half thought it would prompt him to reconsider the benefits of a more straight forward resurrection of the Riddler.

So he was curious when he saw the man meandering his way through the crowds of the Iceberg Lounge to find out whether his commitment was the same.

“Penguin,” Nygma greeted him formally as he drew to a stop beside the proprietor’s private table.

Penguin gestured him into the chair opposite before speaking.

“How goes it?” He kept his tone neutral although it would be a lie to say he wasn’t keen to hear the man’s decision. Penguin had surprised himself with his own enthusiasm for taking the new criminal under his wing. It would be disappointing to end their alliance so soon. He covered any signs of interest he might betray by sipping slowly from his drink.

“I confess the reading was particularly dry. And repetitive. And in places almost unbelievably imbecilic. So much so I thought I was missing something important before realising that no, it really was that mind-numbingly simple.”

Penguin couldn’t help but chuckle as the complaint. It was certainly true that a lot of legal jargon was dull and long-winded in the extreme when it could so easily be summarised in a few sentences.

“However,” he continued, “I believe I now have a comfortable grasp on the overall logistics of how things work.”

The exclamation of disbelief was on the tip of Penguin’s tongue but he quickly bit it back. Edward was not to be underestimated mentally speaking. The fact he’d picked up the general practices of business law so quickly should not have been a surprise.

Penguin gestured for a server to bring them both drinks as he considered his next move.

“You are still planning on ruining Mockridge financially speaking them? Knocking him from his position at the top of his company?”

“Of course.” Nygma frowned. “Why would I have changed my mind?”

“Because my dear fellow, not everyone has the concentration or staying power for the complexities of business management. Most people seek instant gratification over the rewards of a longer game.”

“Well, _my dear fellow_, **I** am not ‘most people’.”

His irritation at the insinuation was quite plain and Penguin offered a conciliatory smile.

“Of course. But I had to be sure before introducing you to the next stages of effective business dealings.”

Nygma surveyed him contemplatively across the table as he savoured his own drink.

“And what is the next stage?” he finally enquired.

Penguin settled back looking quite self-satisfied.

“Thus far you have been considering how to manage one’s own business. What the limitations and allowances are. The moves, if you will, of the game you will be playing.”

“I enjoy games.” Edward smiled.

“I suspected you might. But most games naturally are played against others. It is as important to know who you are competing against as it is to know what your own game plan is.”

“And how does one do that?” Nygma leant forward and balanced his chin on his folded hands, the smile still on his face.

Penguin found himself mimicking the gesture.

“By espionage obviously.”

The reply brought a laugh out of his companion who leant back with a relaxed posture.

“Sounds fun.”

“Depending on the preference of the players, this may be accomplished in many different ways. If you are in business then you also need to protect _against_ espionage so knowing your enemy has a double benefit.”

“And what’s your preference Penguin?”

“If you think I’ll answer that then I shall be highly offended.”

Edward laughed again and raised his glass in toast. After a second Penguin echoed the gesture.

“So,” he picked up their conversation. “What available methods are there?”

“There’s the old fashioned way,” Penguin began elaborating. “Such as would be employed by the GCPD for example.”

“Ah. Undercover agents?”

“Exactly. It works well enough for their purposes and allows for adaptations to sudden developments, which I suppose is a boon when criminals move fast upon recognising the traitor.”

“A better system would involve no recognition of the infiltrator,” Ed pointed out.

“Perhaps but rather difficult to achieve.” Penguin tilted his head thoughtfully. “I rather hope the GCPD don’t change their system anytime soon. It’s so useful to have a conduit for dissimulating false information.”

“At any rate,” Edward interrupted his musings, “I don’t have a selection of operatives to deploy so that’s irrelevant.”

“You don’t _yet_,” Penguin countered. “And you still need to be aware of the practise.”

A nod of acknowledgement was his only reply so he continued on.

“Even so, you have to be utterly sure of their loyalty so its not a method I’d recommend. More subtle and perhaps more up your street would be tapping the phones or bugging offices to eavesdrop.”

“That sounds much more straightforward.”

“It has several advantages. Immediacy of feedback and no doubts about interpretation for starters.”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

Penguin smiled.

“_But_ it is still open to abuse. If its recognised there’s no chance of the bug realising its been discovered. You could be fed false information for weeks before suspecting anything amiss.”

“Perhaps frequent redeployment of the devices would solve that dilemma.”

“Possible,” Penguin agreed, “but risky. Each break in to replace them could result in capture and game over.”

Edward tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Devices that could relocate themselves?” he murmured. “Or hidden in such plain sight no-one notices? Dummy devices while the real tracker is in the computer system?”

“You are taking to this like a duck to water so far,” Penguin praised bringing a grin to Nygma’s face.

“I have ample incentive. And a competent teacher.”

His host huffed at the faint praise.

“Its early days yet my little duckling. There’s much still to learn before we see if you’ll grow into a beautiful swan.”

The comment brought a quote to Nygma’s mind – the eagle suffers little birds to sing – and he hid his smile behind his glass. He had a strong suspicion he knew what Penguin’s preferred eavesdropping method was.


	4. That In The Way Of Loyalty And Truth

It was early in the day but Penguin had suggested Nygma meet him at the Lounge anyway despite it not being open. Edward considered this was simply because it was territorially safe for the mountebank but he had no objection either way. He began to question this conclusion when he saw the smirk on Penguin’s face though.

The proprietor was sat at his usual table, looking quite relaxed, while what Ed estimated to be his entire staff loitered in a group over by the bar. Their murmured chatter indicated they were unbothered by events taking place which actually did little to reassure Edward and it was with a cautious eye on them that he slid into the vacant seat opposite Penguin.

“Is there some sort of staff training?” he enquired with an overly polite tone.

Penguin didn’t so much as glance their way, keeping his focus entirely on the Edward.

“Not staff training, no. They’re here for _your_ training.”

“_My_ training? What do your staff have to do with my training?”

“My dear Nygma, the staff are the bedrock of any company. I’d have thought you of all people would understand _that_. Wasn’t it on the back of your labour after all that Mockridge built his fortune?”

Edward hesitated and took another minute to assess the people relaxing together.

There was a selection of waiters and waitresses, all beautiful and all attired to draw attention to their assets without giving anyone a free look. It crossed Edward’s mind that he must have been served by some of them but he couldn’t say now which.

The distinctive white hat marked a head chef surrounded by his underlings. The bodyguards, or bouncers, and various staff whose role was not obviously apparent intermixed easily amongst them all. Everyone seemed happy and content in their surroundings.

He turned his gaze back onto Penguin who was watching him smugly.

“What’s your point?”

“Tsk tsk. I’m sure an intelligent man like you can figure that out.”

Edward’s gaze flittered back across the room before fixing itself on Penguin’s intense stare.

“Mockridge treated me… and the other programmers… like dirt beneath his feet. He took everything we had to give and gave nothing back. That’s why he’s a living target now.”

“Good. Exactly so. Which teaches you what?”

“Not to treat staff like crap.”

“Language,” Penguin scolded with a frown before picking up the thread of their dialogue. “Staff of necessity have access to your vulnerabilities. Not all of them certainly, but enough to make them worth guarding. It costs little in the long run to pamper to people’s egos a little. Know what price is high enough for security and what _currency_.”

“What currency?” Ed echoed.

“Paying people dollars is all well and good until someone comes along with a bigger wallet. For those from whom you require greater loyalty, a personal connection is best.”

Edward nodded thoughtfully as he took in that concept. Then Penguin interrupted him again.

“Go over,” he suggested. “Talk to them. Get a feel for who you could manipulate with the right leverage. It’s a valuable skill for you to learn and it won’t do me any harm to know if you sense a chink in my armour.” He rose and headed towards his back office. “You _did_ say you’d improve my security.”

“This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Penguin only shrugged as he walked stiffly across the room. Edward had noticed before the man was not always as mobile as he might be. It was impressive really that he managed to compete with Batman on a regular basis as he did. With pursed lips Edward stood and relegated that piece of information for consideration later.

Heading at a slow saunter towards the skittish group he noted the looks he was receiving. The heavy set men were sizing him up, an activity which brought back unpleasant memories for him. The wait staff were wearing their professional bland smiles but the kitchen staff were openly curious. He reasoned that the kitchen staff would be the most open to talk and also the best placed for exploiting vulnerabilities.

Drawing to a halt in front of the head chef he bounced momentarily on the balls of his feet.

“So. How long have you worked for Penguin?”

The question brought him a suspicious look but that wasn’t unexpected.

“Nearly four years,” the man answered.

“And you’ve never thought of working somewhere else? For someone without his… reputation?”

The suspicious look turned instantly to a defensive pose.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Penguin but he’s the best boss I’ve ever had.”

Edward raised his hands in an automatic defensive gesture and took a step back, noting the other cooks were frowning at him in solidarity. Perhaps the kitchen staff weren’t the best place to start. Penguin undoubtedly knew he needed utmost loyalty from anyone who prepared and served his food and drink.

Edward turned instead to some of the Iceberg floor staff. Namely the young women who were clustered together. He approached with a bland smile that he hoped didn’t come across as creepy.

“Good morning ladies.”

He’d thought the opening was fairly innocuous but he saw at least one girl roll her eyes. Undeterred he pressed on.

“What’s a nice troop of women like you doing working for someone like Penguin?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His gaze flickered between the speaker and the eye roller who were both now giving him the stink eye.

“Well… Just that beautiful girls-women,” he corrected quickly, “Could surely get work anywhere you wanted.” He risked another smile. “It can’t be the safest place to work.”

This was met with scoffing and giggling laughter. Ms Eye-Roller stepped forward as spokesperson.

“Listen up. This is the _safest_ place for _weak_ vulnerable young people like us to work.”

Ed got the distinct impression he was being mocked but held his tongue as she continued.

“Penguin doesn’t stand for anyone taking any liberties with his staff. Male, female or anything in between. He’s the best boss we’ve ever had.”

The other wait staff nodded their agreement. Ed cast his glance about and couldn’t help but note the bouncers cracking their knuckles aggressively. He wasn’t completely ignorant about reading people. He was aware both of their dedicated loyalty and the fact Penguin expected him to recognise this. 

“Edward.”

Penguin’s voice calling his attention back was still a welcome chance to escape. He deliberately didn’t hurry but he didn’t dawdle either. As he returned to the table Penguin was just picking up his glass again and draining the contents.

“Well?” he enquired when the wine was gone. “How did you get on?”

“It’s a pointless exercise.” Edward folded his arms huffily. “You knew your staff wouldn’t give an inch.”

“I did,” Penguin agreed, “but that doesn’t make it a pointless exercise. Its basic people skills Mister Nygma. Knowing how to extract the information you want without arousing suspicion. How to keep people on your side when you need them. Even outside of business it’s a valuable attribute to have.”

“People are so boring though. With their petty lives and insipid concerns.”

Penguin surveyed him critically.

“Then view them as a puzzle to be solved. Working out the key to unlocking their mind or heart for your use.”

As the idea settled over Edward, Penguin once again moved away from the table.

“If you’ll excuse me. I have to hand out the monthly bonuses.”

Nygma watched thoughtfully as the short man approached his staff, who all moved to incorporate him in their midst. As Penguin began passing round envelopes he exchanged words with a few of them, clearly receiving grateful nods from some while a few others unhesitatingly hugged him in thanks.

It struck him that he’d never received such appreciation from anyone. Perhaps these ‘people skills’ wouldn’t be such a bad thing to develop.


	5. By Indirections Find Directions Out

“When you said you wanted my help, I thought you meant with your computer software.”

Edward shifted awkwardly in his seat. It was perfectly comfortable. He wasn’t.

“I am not responsible for your incorrect assumptions.”

Penguin sat alongside him completely unruffled and Ed felt compelled to push at that composure.

“I am beginning to think you don’t trust me Penguin.”

That brought the shorter man’s attention swinging round to him.

“Of course I don’t. I’m training you to be a criminal after all.” He arched an eyebrow superciliously.

That sort of logic couldn’t be argued with but now he had the man’s attention he decided to press for further clarification.

“If you’re not going to let me at your computer systems, then what exactly do you hope to gain from this?”

Penguin turned away to face forward again before answering.

“I’m looking at the bigger picture. The longer game if you will. The more distractions the Batman has then the easier my life will become.”

Nygma frowned at the implication of being a pawn in Penguin’s game, no matter how predictable the answer was. He also wasn’t happy about the assumption he’d be facing Batman again. However Penguin continued before he could voice any objection.

“Now relax and enjoy the entertainment Edward.”

Rather than press on with their discussion he decided to take the man’s advice and settle in for the show. Besides which he knew he’d disprove Penguin’s assumptions in the long run anyway so he’d win this game in the end.

Penguin had in fact co-opted his help in assessing some new acts for the Iceberg’s entertainment line-up. They were all magicians and Penguin was of the opinion that someone of Nygma’s intellect would be ideal to pick out the best illusionist. It was at least a somewhat engaging way to pass his time. His mind quickly analysing the tricks and how they were likely accomplished.

Most of it was almost painfully obvious and he was able to envisage several ways of actually improving the acts. A few were inappropriate hires by virtue of not really being suitable for a large audience. Close up sleight of hand tricks that only had the power to amaze at short range. Penguin insisted Edward act as volunteer for these so he actually had a perfect view. While he admired the magician’s techniques in these cases he knew they would not be hired.

By the end of the evening he had an easy conclusion for Penguin’s hiring dilemma and several interesting avenues for his own private research.

“So.” Penguin repositioned his chair to face Edward once again. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

The question caught him off guard as he’d expected a prompt enquiry as to who his recommendation was. His eyes narrowed as he considered whether that had in fact been Penguin’s sole purpose.

“It was interesting,” he conceded.

“I thought the theatrical nature of it might appeal to you.”

“Really?”

Penguin nodded as he poured them both drinks.

“Its another key element of making a name for yourself, both in business and in the underworld. Showmanship.”

“And you thought that might appeal to me?”

A curious gaze was shot across to him.

“Forgive me for mentioning it my friend, but you certainly don’t lack confidence in putting yourself forward. It was _you_ who approached _me_ don’t forget. And you’ve never been shy about promoting your own intelligence.”

“Why be shy about stating facts?” he countered, while silently wondering at the use of the epitaph ‘friend’.

“Exactly my point. As long as the facts are those you wish to be known. A lavish enough announcement of which can often conceal other less welcome facts.”

Edward arched an eyebrow, wordlessly prompting him to continue.

“Are you aware of the three stages of a magic trick?” Penguin asked seemingly apropos of nothing. When Edward shook his head, he elaborated. “The Pledge, the Turn, and the Prestige. It starts with something ordinary being shown which is followed by the Turn where the ordinary is turned extraordinary. Like when the woman disappeared in that magic box.”

“Through a trap door,” Edward interrupted.

“Wherever,” Penguin waved this away. “The point is that isn’t enough. The trick has to be completed. She has to be brought _back_.”

“I don’t see the relevance.”

“The relevance is that a life of crime in Gotham – or indeed a life of business – relies on much the same technique. I present my nightclub to the world as _the_ place to be seen. I make it extraordinary by gimmicks and cheap thrills. People come here expecting to be exposed to danger. And in a minor way they _are_ but ultimately they know they will go home safe. That is my promise. The prestige, if you will.

“And while they’re so focused on _that_ they overlook the sleight of hand. The overpriced drinks and brief glimpses of people who may or may not be villainous rogues. They want to believe in the possibilities and also that they’re smart enough to avoid the traps. Even if they aren’t.” He glanced away. “I have made a career of exploiting people’s underestimations. Showing them I’m so much more than they assume. And forcing them to accede to my will to complete the trick.”

“I’m not sure if you’re describing your business or your criminal enterprises,” Edward admitted.

Penguin smirked.

“That’s because they’re largely the same. Its all a case of dazzling your audience so they look where you want them to as you pick their pocket.”

“Now _that_, I can understand. Prestidigitation.”

“Prestigi-what?”

“Prestidigitation,” Edward repeated. “Sleight of hand. Do you have a coin?”

The request threw Penguin momentarily before he obligingly handed over a quarter. Edward held it up for him to see before curling his fingers round it and reopening his hand to show it had gone. Penguin grinned.

“Its down your sleeve,” he suggested.

Edward shook out both sleeves vigorously, a smug smile plastered on his face at Penguin’s riveted gaze.

“Very impressive,” he conceded. “But can you bring it back?”

“I _could_,” Edward conceded. “But I won’t.”

Penguin frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because _you’re_ going to.”

As he leant forward towards Penguin he was surprised to see the other man’s instinctive flustered retreat.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at sleight of hand. Not with these fingers.” He held up his syndactyl digits in explanation.

“I’m not going to ask you to do anything difficult.” Edward spoke soothingly. “Just reach into my top pocket.”

He stayed propped across the table until Penguin leant forward again and hesitantly reached over. A bright smile broke over his face as he pulled out a shiny quarter and he rested back with a laugh.

“See? I knew you’d be good at showmanship.”

Edward settled back in his chair and smiled at him.

“Having a willing audience helps.”

“Gotham has the best audience you could hope for. Over confident in their own cleverness, bored of their mundane lives and willing to take risks for a distraction.” He raised his glass in toast. “To the punters,” he offered.

Edward chinked his own glass to Penguin’s.

“To the Rogues who dazzle them.”


	6. There Is Magic In The Web

Myriad thoughts went through Edward’s mind when Penguin suggested they meet at Gotham General Hospital. The first of which was that they might be recognised. Or more accurately that _he_ might be recognised. Penguin was instantly recognisable wherever he went. Edward was not yet so renowned, a fact for which he was currently quite grateful, however being seen with Penguin might raise questions.

The second and more alarming thought was that Penguin was out to eliminate someone there. While Edward had very few morals, he did draw the line at cold blooded murder. At least of anyone he didn’t have a personal grudge against.

Which was partly why his anxiety sky rocketed when Penguin led him towards the childrens’ ward.

“Penguin,” he cast an anxious glance around and rephrased. “Mister Cobblepot. What are we doing here? You said you wanted my help but I-”

“I do want your help. After your admirable demonstration I know you’ll be perfect.”

Edward flustered, partly from the confidence in his unnamed skills but also as he tried to pinpoint what demonstration Penguin meant. As he floundered they reached their destination and Penguin led them into a private room where a young girl was sat up on the bed.

Automatically, Edward noted several revealing details. The array of monitors hooked up to the child, the seclusion of the room itself, her jaundiced skin, and lastly, rather incongruously, the plush penguin she’d been playing with. Her face broke out into a smile as she saw its living namesake.

“Uncle Penguin!”

“Uncle?” Edward hissed down into his ear.

“An honorific,” Penguin whispered back before approaching the girl.

“How are you today Ostara?”

“Tired. Who’s he?”

Both girl and man looked upwards at Edward, still standing awkwardly near the door.

“This is my good friend, Mister E. Nygma.” Penguin threw him a devilish smile. “He’s a magician.”

Even as Edward’s mouth dropped open in order to protest, Ostara squealed in delight.

“Really? A real magician?”

Nygma threw his own disgruntled look to Penguin but acquiesced.

“Yes.” He stepped closer. “I’m a card magician.”

“Will you show me a trick? Please? Please, _please_.”

“I’d love to only I don’t have-”

A pack of cards materialised in his line of sight and he shot another glare to Penguin. However he did take the pack and begin the standard patter he’d learnt as a child himself.

It surprised him how easily the motions and manipulations came back to him and he felt muscle memory kick in as he deftly shuffled and arranged the cards. Ostara was a perfect audience. Too young yet to have any cynicism and utterly willing to believe in magic. Edward found himself enjoying the admiration and attention.

Too soon though she was clearly beginning to flag and Edward brought his spiel to an end. She yawned happily and snuggled into bed with her toy before murmuring, “Thank you Mister Nygma. Thank you Mister Penguin.”

They made their exit and left her to rest. As they walked out, Edward’s mind ticked over quietly. He’d actually enjoyed the afternoon, although he still didn’t understand why Penguin had brought him. It had at least shown him that when out and about with the avian rogue, as long as he did nothing untoward, attention would inevitably be focused elsewhere than on him.

Edward waited until they were outside before quizzing Penguin about the visit.

“Okay. What was that about? What lesson was I supposed to learn this time?”

The shorter man sat heavily on a bench, waiting for Edward to join him before replying.

“Remember I spoke of loyalty and its currency?” Edward nodded. “Ostara is the daughter of my head chef. When she became ill, I financed her treatment. That kind of kindness buys a lot of loyalty, from both father and daughter.”

Edward nodded as he considered and accepted that however he couldn’t help a new frown.

“That’s logical but it doesn’t explain additional visits. They’d be just as grateful for the help without the extra effort wouldn’t they?”

“Perhaps.”

A silence fell and Edward wondered if he’d unknowingly hit a sore point. Would it be better to let it drop or should he enquire further? The question was answered for him as Penguin picked up the topic again.

“The personal touch will always mean more to people. There a basic level of what’s expected… human charity if you will… and then there’s those gestures above and beyond. A parent might fulfil every duty of raising a child but build no special bond because they take no extra interest.”

Edward couldn’t help but feel the words strike home himself. Hadn’t his own parents always disregarded him and his achievements? They’d provided food, clothes and a roof. They’d sent him to school and paid for his necessities. But they never cared about what else might interest him. Had it been the same for Penguin?

He cast a glance at his companion and concluded it probably was. It was easy to believe that the parents of such an unusual looking person might keep him at arms length. Emotional neglect rather than physical. Edward had found his puzzles and games to support him. What had the young Cobblepot found?

“No child should have to spend their years in such a sterile environment,” Penguin concluded before decisively straightening and deliberately redirecting the conversation. “Do you know, I actually learnt the value of children from the Batman?”

Edward stored the hint of information Penguin had let slip for analysis another time and took up the new dialogue.

“Really?”

“Hhm. A flock of fledglings sheltered the man when I was in the midst of stealing a valuable Vonalster Fabergé Egg. They proved most bothersome as I tried to retrieve my prize.”

“Huh. I thought you were referring to his half size sidekick, the boy wonder.”

“He is certainly bothersome on a whole new level.”

A more comfortable silence fell between them before being once more broken by Penguin.

“You’ll have to be prepared to face the Batman again of course.”

“Why? I have no interest in him. Although I admit he was a worthier adversary than I expected. I told you, I have no interest in joining Gotham’s criminal fraternity against the Batman,” he added. “I just want to see Mockridge brought low. Destitute and rueing the day he ever crossed me.”

“It doesn’t matter if _you_ have any interest in _him_. Batman will come after you. Believe me. Isn’t that what happened before when you went after Mockridge?”

“But that just proves my point. He went after _me_ not Mockridge. He doesn’t go after the social elite, no matter how criminal their dealings. Business men can bend and break the law without any comeback.”

Penguin cast him a dubious glance.

“Let’s just hope you’re right.”


	7. We Know What We Are But Know Not What We May Be

Edward had never been to this area of Gotham before so he was understandably cautious. Penguin had given him specific instructions which he’d obeyed to the letter, from his pinstripe suit to his winding path to his destination. As he walked he cursed his overriding curiosity that compelled him to follow this trail despite not knowing what awaited him.

It wasn’t exactly that he didn’t trust Penguin. The Rogue had been quite clear that he dealt in obligations and debts and Edward knew he was accruing his own debts but trusted the result would be worth the price. At any rate he trusted he was worth more to the Penguin as a trained associate than a dead trainee. It didn’t preclude other fears about the company he was keeping.

Penguin was not the worst that Gotham had to offer by a long shot.

He was relieved to see the expected doorway at last and hurried over to knock. A grill pulled back abruptly.

“God does not play dice,” he recited, biting back his instinct to correct the phrase and reminding himself it was a password not a quotation. He breathed easier when the door opened and he was ushered in.

“The boss is expecting you,” the bouncer told him gruffly before leading him inside.

Edward cast his gaze around and was surprised to find himself in a well appointed casino. From outside the place had seemed little more than a rundown office apartment. Inside it was clearly a popular resort for those with money to play with.

Before he could really take too much in he was brought to another door where his escort knocked.

“Boss? Your friend’s here.”

“Yes, thank you,” Penguin’s piqued voice preluded the man’s appearance as he opened his room to him.

Edward quickly stepped inside sensing Penguin wanted the privacy restored as soon as possible. He was proved correct as the man’s tension eased the moment the door shut behind them and he carefully made his way back to the desk. Edward took the opportunity to assess the situation.

Penguin was undoubtedly going as undercover as he ever did. No top hat, a lack of waistcoat and no spats. Even his long hair was tied back into a ponytail. It was amusing really since he was still most distinctive. Edward chose to avoid commenting on that point though.

“What’s the game here? Not out there obviously,” he amended. “With us. Our lessons,” he corrected himself, cursing at his own verbal fumbling as Penguin’s anxiety proved contagious. “Why are we meeting here?” he finally asked.

Penguin had retaken his seat and now gestured for Edward to follow suit.

“This place, as you’ve probably gathered, is one of my illegal operations. In crime, as in business, it is often necessary to convert ill gotten gains into currency that cannot be traced. That’s what this place is for. A way of filtering stolen money back into circulation without it being linked in any way to me or my Iceberg Lounge. Even if any of the patrons here realise their money is wanted evidence from a heist, none of them can say a word for fear of prosecution for illegal gambling. I’d keep my own presence here secret from everyone if I could.”

“Then why are we here?” Edward repeated with a frown.

Penguin huffed, obviously irritated by his persistence.

“If you must know, I’m keeping a low profile after a brush with the Bat the other night. It did not go so well as I hoped and he escaped my trap. Hence I’m avoiding the Lounge for now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your plan?” Ed folded his arms. “I might have been able to help you with the planning. Then you wouldn’t be skulking now.”

“You made it perfectly clear you didn’t want to be drawn into Gotham’s more notorious criminal fraternity.” Penguin frowned. “Helping me would have made you an accessory before the fact.”

“Only if it was uncovered. I think I’ve proved I’m quite adept at covering my tracks.”

“Be that as it may,” Penguin replied dismissively. “You might find it’s a short trip from lending a sympathetic ear to lending a helping hand. And you’ve shown a distinct disinclination to don your Riddler regalia again.”

Edward paused at that. He hadn’t intended going down that route again. His focus was on making Mockridge pay by stealing his company away from him in a manner no one could repute. So why was he arguing when Penguin was attempting to be accommodating?

“Your consideration is appreciated,” he offered. “I certainly wouldn’t want my plans against Mockridge to be derailed unnecessarily.”

Penguin leant back and considered him across the expanse between them.

“Is that as far as your plans go? Have you thought about your career after that point? You have the aptitude to manage very well for yourself if you were to take over his company.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d raised the possibility of Edward running the company afterwards and he wondered why Penguin was making the point again.

“What exactly are you advising me to do?”

“You should consider your long term future my friend. Finish your revenge against Mockridge. Quietly, efficiently strip him of his company. Keep the infrastructure and act as its new chairman, using the proceeds to feather your nest. But that won’t satisfy a mind like yours. You’ll be looking to new acquisitions. Greater challenges. I wouldn’t seek to advise on your methodology there but will only say, keep things separate. If there are enough cogs then one breaking won’t stop the entire machine.”

The hint about separate criminal activities wasn’t lost on him but he chose to ignore it.

“And if I become a successful business man in my own right, you’d have expectations of me?”

A smile spread across Penguin’s face.

“Exactly so. We could have a partnership of equals. Share a hold over more of Gotham than either of us could alone.”

“It’s an intriguing idea,” Edward conceded.

“You have potential Edward Nygma.” Penguin continued his flattery. “More so than any of my other associates. Computers are the coming thing and that seems to be your forte. You could scoop the market early.”

“Which could help you transition into the future,” Nygma suggested seeing where this was heading.

Penguin frowned at him.

“I will transition perfectly well with or without your help,” he snapped. “Some human foibles never change and that just happens to be where my niche lies. Computer expertise would no doubt smooth the way but I do not _need_ your help for that. I am merely offering a convenient way for you to repay the generosity I have shown you thus far.”

Nygma nodded and raised one conciliatory hand.

“I already offered you my computer expertise Penguin. I consider it already part of our bargain. If I get greater future stability as well, then it’s definitely a bargain.”

“I do not believe we shook on our deal before.” Penguin extended his unmistakeable hand across and awaited its reciprocation. Edward hesitated only a moment as he pondered if that was what had been bothering Penguin. The nebulous nature of their verbal agreement.

Then he grasped the hand firmly.

“Consider it settled,” he agreed.


	8. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after "Almost Got 'Im"

Edward was irritated. He’d known this was a bad idea but Penguin had insisted. Apparently it was a social obligation. One did not refuse a friendly card game with your peers. Especially not when said peers were unused to taking no for an answer and regularly carried lethal weaponry.

Although he had explained the benefits it might provide, Edward had remained convinced the possible drawbacks outweighed any possible gain. So now here he was, upholding their scheduled meeting despite Penguin being resident in Blackgate.

He had considered whether their rendezvous would still be expected given the circumstances but Edward was not one to skip a scheduled appointment without explicit agreement from all parties. Part of him was aware that this meant he shouldn’t berate Penguin too heavily for his own feeling of duty bound honour that led him into this situation. It didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Eventually the sound of the heavy door opening indicated Penguin was finally arriving in the visitor room. Edward arched an eyebrow expectantly only to find Penguin looking smug. They waited for the guard to back away before speaking.

“George Parker?” Penguin queried with amusement.

“Well I wasn’t about to give my real name,” Edward hissed back before sniffing aloofly. “George was the-”

“The founder of the Parker Brothers,” Penguin concluded dismissively. “Yes I know.” At Edward’s obvious surprise he puffed himself up huffily. “I’m not a philistine.”

“I know you’re not. Its just… not everyone knows game history.”

“I take a practical interest in game theory. We should discuss it sometime.”

The reminder of their regular conversations brought Edward’s irritation back to the foreground. He crossed his arms and glared.

“Well that won’t be anytime soon while you’re in here now will it?”

“Nonsense. I won’t be in here long,” Penguin stated with confidence. “Granted they have a witnessed confession of my breaking and entering of Gotham City Zoo… and attempted murder of the Batman… but without Batman to testify they can’t prosecute me for that. And the breaking and entering won’t warrant long.”

“You should never have met up with those madmen. Social politeness be damned.”

“It was _networking_ my dear fellow. I told you, its vital to know what’s going on with your co-conspirators and rivals. I’d look a fool if I went after the same target as one of the others after all.”

Edward didn’t let down his annoyed façade even as he recognised the logic.

“I’m sure there are easier ways of finding out that sort of information.”

“Perhaps. But its also a bit of a chance to relax with like-minded individuals.” Penguin seemed to consider that statement. “Or at least with people of similar goals. Who else can I so casually discuss my plans against the Bat?”

“I have no objection to hearing your exploits,” Edward protested.

Penguin stared hard at him.

“At present you have a chance to fashion yourself into a respectable business man. Aiding and abetting a criminal such as myself would only derail that plan. I am trying to respect your wishes.”

“I said I didn’t want to _become_ one of your Rogues Gallery. Not that I had any objection to helping you avoid prison!” He realised he’d raised his voice and deliberately settled himself back down.

Edward inhaled carefully. Why was he letting this irritate him so much? It was a minor inconvenience at best. A short break in their routine. And it made sense for him to maintain a respectful distance of Penguin’s more extravagant crimes. His only interest was learning about his underhand methods, not his flamboyant career.

Although, if it weren’t for that flamboyant career they wouldn’t be disrupted as they were now.

“Have you ever considered turning over a new leaf?” he suggested. “With your gift for navigating the murky world of Gotham’s business you surely don’t need the extra money.”

“The money isn’t the point my friend. It’s the prestige. The respect it brings. I wouldn’t expect someone on the outside to understand but once you’ve had a taste of it… don’t you ever get tempted by the allure of it? You have a touch of drama in your soul, I can tell.”

Edward folded his arms defensively.

“No.”

In truth he did occasionally think about it. If only to show all the mundane fools the insipidness of their daily routine. How much grander life could be if they only thought outside the box for once. Not that he was prepared to admit that however.

Penguin must have sensed his metaphorical walls because he took a different tone.

“Perhaps this is a good opportunity for you to take a breather? A chance to relax and unwind.”

Edward found himself staring disbelievingly but couldn’t stop himself.

“You want me to take a holiday? I have never taken a holiday. A well organised mind doesn’t require vacations.”

“Come now. Everyone needs to rest and recharge now and then.”

“I don’t,” he muttered petulantly, shifting awkwardly.

“Now you’re just being stubborn. When I get out of here I’ll make it my first priority. To demonstrate the fine art of how a gentleman relaxes.”

“And how would you suggest I _relax_?” He meant it to sound snide, and his body language with crossed arms screamed irritated, but he couldn’t stop a tone of inquisitiveness drifting into his voice. His unbridled curiosity always was his undoing.

“What better way than wine, women and song my friend? Fine dining, a little flirting and music for the soul.”

Edward couldn’t contain his derisive snort.

“That’s so typical of the narrow minded society in which we live,” he complained. “Why should it be assumed I’d flirt with women?”

The open surprise registering on Penguin’s face was pleasing to see.

“Oh. I didn’t… I just assumed…”

“Exactly,” Edward interrupted his babbling. “Its always just assumed. Society is so constrained. I might flirt with women if I like. Or men. Or neither. But I will not be dictated to by _society_.”

By this point Penguin had recovered his poise.

“Well, whoever you choose to associate with, I would advocate taking some time to enjoy life. Indulge in whatever pleasures interest you the most. Operas, museums, even puzzle books. Something to give yourself a rest.”

“Opera?”

Penguin rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he complained. “The theatre if you must. Or, heaven forbid, cinema.”

“No, no,” Edward corrected. “Its just, I’ve never been to an opera.”

He could almost see the ruffled feathers settling opposite him.

“Well then. I will make it a priority to take you some day.”

“When you’re out of here,” Ed reminded him. “And I’ve completed my takeover.”

“Naturally,” Penguin agreed. “But its important to have simple life goals as well as grand schemes. To stop and smell the roses if you will. Admire a work of art. Are you interested in art at all?”

“Some,” Edward conceded. “Generally I admire technique over the content.”

“Perhaps you should start a collection? It might make a diverting hobby to give your mind a break.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he deflected.

“I shall be happy to assist. Its not often I get the opportunity to share my interest in the finer things in life.”

“Very well. When you’re next free,” he added with an amused quirk to his lips.

Penguin laughed delightedly at the wordplay and Edward found himself chuckling too.


	9. It Puzzles The Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs in the aftermath of "Birds Of A Feather" and before "What Is Reality?"

Riddler was _livid_. Not since Mockridge deceived him had he felt so angry. And that was only as subjugated Edward Nygma. Now he was unfettered and his anger felt that much more visceral.

Penguin had been playing by the rules. _Their_ rules!

Granted, the first time he had been released he’d gone on a bit of an art shopping spree, determined to showcase some of his favourite works to Edward, but the second time… Riddler grit his teeth in irritation.

He had just been to visit Penguin where he was now residing in Stonegate awaiting trial and could honestly say he’d never seen a man look so dejected. If there was one thing Nygma couldn’t abide it was betrayal, and Penguin had been betrayed most cruelly.

Yet did the perpetrators of that betrayal get punished? Did _they_ have to answer for their crimes? No. They got to go home to their luxurious houses, filled no doubt with magnificent artwork they didn’t appreciate, while Oswald got thrown in jail almost without thought. Although he wasn’t incarcerated yet it was obvious the trial would be a formality. People with a reputation such as his didn’t get the benefit of the doubt after all. Especially not when taken down by the city’s very own vigilante.

It was easy to blame the Batman. After all, even before Penguin had committed any crime… when he’d only just stepped back into his own residence… the caped crusader had been threatening him. All the fine talk about justice for all and innocent until proven guilty was so much hogwash to sooth the populace’s hypocritical consciences.

But simply blaming Batman was too obvious. It didn’t delve deeply enough into the real problems of society. The police who stubbornly looked only on the surface for easy pickings in terms of crimes to solve. The general public who pushed all the problems they encountered onto a few outcasts, whether that be unemployment onto immigrants, diseases onto different sexual orientations, or their limited safety on the streets onto colourful rogues. Never mind the fact that most of these situations actually stemmed from corrupt corporations in positions of power that withheld the basic necessities from common folk.

Edward knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the heap. To be pushed aside in favour of the more socially acceptable people. Even in his school days, when it had merely been his red hair the other children focused on, he’d been deemed a misfit. At least now he had his intellect to circumnavigate these hurdles in his way.

There was little he could do for Oswald currently but he couldn’t sit by while such social injustice went unchecked. Those who should know better, those charged with upholding the rights of all, should be made to suffer for their failings. Batman always sided with the darlings of high society. He was nothing more than an elitist snob. It was up to those with clearer vision to right these particular wrongs.

He wondered at how he could have let himself become so small minded in his quest for revenge. Mockridge was only a symptom of a much larger problem and dealing with him wouldn’t solve the underlying ailment. Even taking his company seemed petty to Nygma now. What could he realistically do with a company? Screw a few other companies out of loose change?

It was peanuts and he knew he could do better. He was the smartest man in Gotham. In the world even. And the world would see that. And once he’d shown them his brilliance then they would follow his lead. He’d set things to right.

Yet it never hurt to have a trial run. His mind began to tick over with a plan.

First things first. He should eradicate all trace of Edward Nygma from existence. Cut himself away from the world that had screwed him over. Then he could set about envisaging a new world. A better reality. A _virtual_ reality.

The World Fair Exposition that had recently closed had had a demonstration of a new immersive computer system. With a few modifications it should be perfect. He could use it to trial run a utopian society. One that didn’t trample on expertise and eloquence in favour of inheritance and brutish strength. Where people would be judged on their merits as an individual and not how well they fit in with a collective norm.

He could seize Mockridge’s company by manipulating computer banking to give himself the necessary funds. Worry about dealing with the man himself later. Penguin would surely be able to advise him on that. Then set up production of home installed virtual reality units. The mindless public would no doubt lap up the chance to hand over any responsibility about thinking for themselves. And then the Riddler could control them all. Make those pay who deserved it and give those few, those _very_ few, who were worthy of it a chance to shine.

A slow smile spread across his face. And he could use it to rid the world of a few of its more persistent problems beforehand too. A little trickery, a few brain teasers, and he could lure that holier than thou Batman and the Commissioner into his own personal playground. And once there he could break them.

He could feel the buzz of adrenaline already and remembered Oswald warning him about how easy it was to slip back into character. Now he was embracing the Riddler again though he wondered why he hadn’t done so before. It felt natural. He felt more alive. And if he’d done this sooner then he could have worked _with_ Oswald instead of trailing after him.

Oswald who had called him a friend. Who had said he saw potential in him yet respected his request to avoid joining the cast of criminals featuring daily on the covers of the newspapers. Someone who had only ever offered help and assistance, with absolutely no guarantee of reimbursement, but confidence in his investment nonetheless. Well Edward would show Oswald that his instincts had been correct. He would dazzle them all!

No longer mentor and trainee but equals. He would show the world, and Oswald, that he was worthy of his status as _the_ criminal genius in Gotham.


	10. I Am But Mad North-North-West

Arkham Asylum. That was where he was now. It had taken Edward a while to unravel his hallucinations from reality and finding himself here had not aided that endeavour any. At no point in his planning had he even conceived he might find himself interred here so for several days his mind rejected it as a possible reality.

Initially he’d been kept almost entirely isolated in his cell while staff assessed his situation and waited for his mind to reset itself after being trapped in his virtual reality unit. This was counterproductive since with no external stimulate to focus on his agile brain kept feeding him probabilities and possibilities. Which he verbally hashed out with himself as the only audience.

He didn’t know how long that might have continued, or if staff would have resorted to sedating him, when providence stepped in. If providence could be described as a short, rotund well-dressed individual with a penchant for avian themed crimes.

As Edward was led into the visitor room though, his brain firmly insisted this was another hallucination.

“You’re not real. You’re in Stonegate awaiting trial. Or Blackgate if the trial has already happened. Or perhaps _I’m_ not real. Or neither of us are.”

His guest surveyed him with a critical look that was incongruous with his imaginary status before turning and glaring at the guard waiting by the door.

“What have you been doing to him? I insist to know what treatment he has been receiving.”

Edward blinked in surprise at being ignored. None of his visions so far had ignored him. They’d all seemed determined to badger him unrelentingly. Meanwhile the guard was answering the demand with blithe directness.

“Mister Nygma has been under observation. No medications thus far and no interactions.”

Penguin huffed.

“No wonder he’s questioning his own reality then. We are a sociable species my good man. Others help define our very existence. I shall be having words with his doctor before I leave.”

As Oswald finally turned his attention back onto Edward, he felt his confidence waver.

“Oswald? You’re really here? I’m really here?”

“Yes, Edward. Do you know where here is?”

Before answering Edward took a moment to mentally reassess what was likely to be real and what wasn’t. His eyes flickered over the room and the guard.

“Arkham Asylum,” he concluded.

This was confirmed with a nod.

“But I’m not crazy!” he burst out angrily. “You know that! I’m possibly the sanest man in the city!”

“Yes, yes. But you must admit that stunt with the virtual reality thingy backfired rather. You didn’t even believe I was real when you came in here. Is it any wonder they put you in the loony bin?”

Edward folded his arms and pouted.

“Fine but I don’t belong here. They should just let me leave. I’ll be fine then.”

“If you think they’ll let you just walk out the door after your stunt with the commissioner then I think you’ll have a hard time convincing anyone you’re sane.” Penguin sniffed.

“That wasn’t my whole plan,” Edward protested. “It was just a trial run to get any bugs out of the system.”

“Just as well,” Penguin murmured, thoughts clearly elsewhere as he tapped at his chin thoughtfully. “But perhaps this situation may work to your advantage.”

“How do you figure that?”

“It’s a chance to network. Interact with some of my criminal brethren. Albeit the more…extrovert members of the cabal. I am not familiar with the interior workings of Arkham but I imagine it has similar prospects for conversation as Blackgate.”

“I don’t want to network with them,” he huffed. “They’re all mad.”

“I am only trying to be helpful,” Penguin snapped back at him. “It’s a useful trait to make the most of opportunities as they present themselves. No matter how unwanted they may appear at first.”

Edward looked at him suspiciously.

“Why _are_ you here?” he challenged.

“My conviction was overturned.”

The wilfully obtuse answer only fuelled Edward’s belief that Penguin was playing another game.

“No,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “Why are you _here_, visiting me?”

“Is it so hard to believe I am concerned for a friend?”

Edward paused. He wanted to believe that. _He_ certainly thought of Oswald as his friend. But could he trust that reasoning? Wasn’t it far more likely that Penguin was utilising this new connection to the more colourful of Gotham’s rogues, either to gather information or simply keep abreast of developments.

“You don’t do anything for nothing,” he pressed.

Opposite him Oswald let out a sigh.

“Fine. I _would_ like to know where our agreement stands.”

The unexpected reply caught him off guard and he blinked slowly.

“Our agreement?” he repeated.

“Yes.” Oswald fiddled with his fingers awkwardly. “You asked to be guided in business and specifically wished to be left out of the more obviously criminal activities. Now you’re firmly associated in the public eye with challenging the Bat and that puts you alongside those individuals you previously wished to have nothing to do with.” He raised his gaze to hold Edward’s. “Do you still want me as a mentor? A guide? Or do you feel you’ve fledged. Ready to fly alone. I do not know what to expect from you next Edward.”

This last bit was added with an air of resignation and Edward had to concede his behaviour must seem contrary. He didn’t respond immediately but turned over the question in his mind. What did he want from Oswald?

“I have not given up my plans to operate a business some day,” he began carefully. “I’d like us to stay… co-operators. So I can continue to ask your advice.” He chanced a glance at his companion who was listening intently. “And, in my present circumstances, your advice on my new companions would no doubt be useful.”

He offered what he hoped was a conciliatory smile and was relieved when Oswald smiled back.

“Certainly. No doubt you will be happy to share any interesting details you might overhear from my compatriots?”

Edward had to chuckle at Oswald’s mercenary nature. The request didn’t worry him as much as he’d thought it might. He nodded and gestured for the other man to continue. Oswald visibly relaxed as he leant forward to talk almost conspiratorially.

“Well,” he began, “I heard Mad Hatter was just caught again by the Batman the other week so you might want to commiserate with him over your similar fates. Common ground is important to conversation.”

As the crime lord began chattering about who to watch out for and topics to avoid, Edward felt his smirk growing. Oswald apparently liked to gossip. Which was fine with him.


	11. Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things

When Oswald next came to visit Edward he found him in a black mood with a burning red hand print across one cheek.

“What happened to you?”

Edward glowered up at him.

“I followed your advice,” he spat. “And Ivy slapped me. I think there was some toxin in it too because it itches. And these cretins,” he cast a scathing look the guard’s way, “won’t give me anything for it.”

While Ed had been lashing out about this injustice, Oswald took the opportunity to sit opposite him.

“You complimented her on her pumpkin scheme?” he clarified. “And didn’t use any condescending misogynistic language?”

“Yes! Exactly as you told me to.” He glared. “It’s a waste of time talking to anyone in here though. They’re all crazy. Talking in rhymes. Fixating on childish ditties.”

“Now, now,” Oswald soothed. “I know they have their eccentricities but that’s nothing a skilled mind can’t manoeuvre round.”

Edward grumbled vaguely but didn’t outright object and Penguin knew the flattery was working. He also knew altering his perception would be vital and posing anything as a challenge to Edward Nygma inevitably helped him focus.

“Dealing with people who appear stupid to you is an important business skill,” he reminded him.

“My mind shall stagnate in here,” Riddler complained instead nonetheless relaxing his posture.

“Ah!” Oswald reached deep into one of his pockets and pulled out two chunky books. “I have something for you that might help with that. At least until you find your stride in mastering the conversational habits of the other inmates.”

Despite himself Ed glanced warily at their escort before daring to lean in to look at his present.

“Don’t worry,” Oswald smiled. “It was passed through the official channels. You don’t need to secrete it about your person.”

Edward huffed at the very idea and finally leant forward. Penguin had brought him two bumper books of cryptic crosswords. He couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow as he turned his gaze back onto the man.

“I don’t know if they’re any good,” he said apologetically. “Puzzles aren’t really my forte. I don’t have the patience for them. But I thought they might at least offer a little diversion for you?”

The questioning tone probably wasn’t meant but Edward appreciated the concern.

“I’m sure they’ll help keep my mind active. Thank you.”

Oswald smiled in clear relief.

“Excellent.”

Edward felt the remaining tension ease from his shoulders as he relaxed for what felt like the first time in days. He flickered through the first book, not really assessing the puzzles but drawing comfort from their familiar simplistic patterns. Regular and logical. Following strict understandable rules.

“How do you do it Oswald?” The words spilt out of him before he could stop them. “How do you make people like you?”

The question seemed to momentarily flummox the other man.

“I don’t know that I do,” he eventually admitted. “Or I don’t know that _they_ do.”

That gave Edward pause.

“But you’re on intimate terms with seemingly everyone of note in Gotham.”

“Knowing how to converse and deal with people does not make them _friends_. I like to think they all respect me but I’m under no illusion that most of them _like_ me.”

Ed opened his mouth instinctively to object but then snapped it shut. He wasn’t sure Oswald even wanted his friendship and the last thing he wanted to do was make his one regular visitor uncomfortable.

“Well… how do you make them respect you then?” he asked instead. “I need to work out how to talk to them if I’m to learn any intel for you.”

Penguin shrugged.

“In my case, I’ve been established in this city long before any of them. I have seniority and the respect earnt by sheer stubborn survival. That is clearly not a viable solution for your immediate problem.”

“No. So what would you suggest?”

“Persistence is key.” He offered a wry smile. “Its common practise to go hard on relative newbies. To sort the wheat from the chaff so to speak. I’m sure you already have a degree of admiration for having so smoothly pulled off your _first_ heist against Mockridge.”

“They should respect my intelligence.” Edward sniffed derisively.

“Yes, and I’m sure they _will_, but they won’t take kindly to you rubbing that in their face. They each have their own particular areas of expertise in which I have no doubt they could teach you a thing or two. Much as I have with business acumen. I find it key to remember that what most people want most, is the chance to demonstrate their own brilliance. Being a good listener has actually been my most valuable asset over the years. It could serve you well too.”

Ed nodded thoughtfully as he considered that.

“Asides from Ivy’s little temper tantrum, have you had any problems with any of the others? Joker for example?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” Oswald’s pitch rose in agitation. “I warned you to stay away from him for the time being.”

“I was! _I_ didn’t attract his attention. That phobiaphiliac stick man did!”

It took Oswald a second to unravel Edward’s terminology.

“Scarecrow? What were you doing talking to Scarecrow? You shouldn’t cross paths with him unless you have leverage.”

Edward let out a frustrated sigh.

“I didn’t seek him out,” he explained. “I started talking to Jervis and Crane verbally muscled me out. Choosing, I might add, a rather childish rhyme that the Joker seized upon.”

Somewhat to Edward’s annoyance, Oswald didn’t seem at all upset on his behalf. His attention was riveted by what Ed considered the least important information in that sentence.

“Crane was defensive of Tetch? That’s an interesting development. I would not have foreseen him taking an interest in someone like the Mad Hatter.” His thoughts drifted inward. “But they are both interested in literature. There is that connection,” he mumbled.

“They’re both immature children,” Ed muttered irritably.

Oswald attention snapped back to him and he smiled in amusement.

“Oh come now. I’m sure they’re simply testing your stress points. Jonathan especially would be interested to know those,” he added with a hint of caution before smiled warmly again. “Once they warm to you I’m sure they could be useful allies. They are both men of science after all.”

Edward huffed once again, mostly for show, while silently acknowledging Oswald probably had a point. They would make interesting companions, he was sure, but he knew he would never be able to let his guard down around them. Unlike him after all they were clinically insane.


	12. What Manner Of Man Is He?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place at the time of "The Man Who Killed Batman"

Settling into life at Arkham wasn’t actually as difficult as Edward had expected. The routine was calming, in its way, allowing his mind plenty of time to turn over problems and come up with ever more creative solutions. Much like his working life had been. It wasn’t as productive as he’d been on the outside but he wasn’t letting the time go completely to waste.

Progress with the other inmates was exasperating though. He had made some headway with Jervis but was hindered in that regard by Jonathan’s glowering presence. The taller man made no secret of his displeasure over Edward’s mere existence in his world. Edward had also managed a conversation with Two-Face which had gone well until it suddenly hadn’t for no reason he could perceive.

His insipid therapy sessions with the psychiatrists were frustrating as well. The idiotic doctors trying to convince him he was insane was both insulting and bothersome. He was therefore infinitely grateful to Oswald’s visits when he could finally converse with someone sensible who treated him as if he were an equal.

Penguin also brought him news and puzzles. The latest session had provided him with a Rubik cube which was useful to keep his hands occupied as he thought. He wondered briefly if Penguin had noticed his penchant for occupying his hands while he was mentally occupied. His mind diverted briefly into considering whether the other man’s abnormal hands translated into a heighten awareness of others before he brought his thoughts back to the conundrum at hand.

Oswald had brought news of Batman’s demise. He’d clearly been shaken by the news which was only just spreading through his network of informants. Edward had watched his reaction with curiosity. He’d been in a state of stunned disbelief, repeating more than once how the news had been confirmed by several independent sources. It was the unusual emotionless speech that struck Edward most.

Whether talking about how he wasn’t sure whether to be angry at getting pipped to the post, or simply relieved the primary thorn in his side was gone, he showed neither reaction. Edward found himself thinking about if he’d suddenly experience one feeling or the other later. He imagined being there and witness to a true Penguin tantrum as he vented his anger at not being able to finally prove his supremacy. It was a feeling Edward would easily be able to empathise with.

Or else Oswald might finally allow himself to relax. Riddler knew what it was like too to have a constant source of aggravation lingering just out of reach. What would it be like to have that finally gone? To be free at last to exalt in your deserved position and receive the warranted recognition of your superiority.

He frowned. If it were him he would want absolute proof of the event. He was sure Oswald’s network were all trusted individuals but there had been no mention of any actual _evidence_ of Batman’s demise.

Edward would admit that he’d been caught off guard by the Batman the first time they’d crossed paths. In truth the man had never even appeared on his radar before his unwanted interference in Ed’s private vendetta. He would allow himself mildly impressed with his intelligence although, predictably for the city’s resident bully, he quickly resorted to brute strength to solve his problem.

Perhaps that was why Riddler had underestimated him the second time they’d met. Presuming that reliance on physicality denoted a lack of mental endurance and agility.

It was not a mistake he would make again though. Anyone who could turn the Riddler’s own intellectual manoeuvres against him was a formidable foe. And something about the ease with which Batman had been dispatched… by a literal nobody… struck a dissonance within in.

What had Penguin told him? Blown up in an explosion – no body – just his cowl left fluttering in the breeze.

Well that was suspicious in and of itself. Why would his cowl, which never shifted throughout years of fights, suddenly come free now? And how high must the temperature reach to completely destroy a body? Edward had read journals debunking spontaneous human combustion and knew the circumstances had to be quite particular to allow a fire to burn its way through all the fat reserves and bones in the body.

Occam’s razor suggested that the simplest answer should be assumed to be correct. In this case that meant Batman had probably escaped death – as he had apparently done many times before – but was lying low for some as yet unknown reason. It certainly seemed more likely to Edward’s logical mind than the series of events that would need to have been synchronous to produce the same effect.

The question then became, why had he decided to go into hiding?

For a brief second the notion came to Riddler that perhaps the Batman had chosen to retire from his life of crime fighting. What better way to hang up the cape than to fake one’s death and disappear? No-one would come looking for you seeking revenge. No new wannabe Batmans would knock at your door asking for guidance.

This thought reminded him of the obvious problem with this idea. Batman already had a successor in the wings. His boy wonder, Robin. If ever Batman gave up his mantle then surely he would simply pass it on to the youngster? Wasn’t that the point of letting him fly at his side after all?

Which left Edward wondering about alternatives. Possibly it was a ploy to lure someone out by giving them an air of confidence. Making them think it was safe without the Bat and giving him an opportunity to capture them. But who could that be? He knew of no-one who was scared enough of their dark knight to actually hide from him. At least, no-one who would be considered dangerous enough that the Batman would feel it necessary to go to such lengths to fool them.

It was quite a particular sort of individual. Someone who would lie low because of Batman yet had the vigilante concerned enough to resort to such tactics.

Edward chewed his lip, satisfied with his reasoning but knowing he could take it no further. His own knowledge of the players in and around Gotham was lacking. However he resolved to ask Oswald about the possibility on his next visit. Hopefully, the other rogue would be impressed by his deductions. Especially if they were proved correct in the long run.


	13. Let Us Talk In Good Earnest

“And how are the others treating you now?”

Oswald redirected the conversation before Edward got too full of himself. While he was duly impressed the man had foreseen Batman’s miraculous reappearance, he did not need to spend their entire visitor time discussing it.

Predictably the new topic effectively dropped the wind from Riddler’s sails. His smug smile turned into a frustrated frown and Oswald briefly wondered if it wouldn’t have been kinder to let him boast.

“They don’t appreciate my intelligence. Jonathan and Jervis have been-” he cut himself off with a swift glance to the guard stationed watching them. “Well, they’ve been acting like children. I don’t understand it because at times they seem quite rational. Then they’ll drift into quoting the most ridiculous books!”

“That’s the nature of their maladies I’m afraid. Quite coherent one minute, rambling about tea parties the next.”

“They spent the whole of lunch arguing back and forth, just ‘tea’ and ‘cake’,” Edward complained. “Yet later on we were discussing the nature of collective unconsciousness.”

Oswald found himself smiling.

“I think they’re doing it in part to wind you up. Jervis enjoys mind games and Jonathan likes taking people apart. Psychologically speaking anyway. I believe it shows they like you.”

“It’s a very funny way to show you like someone.”

“Perhaps I should have said they’re interested in you. Though the fact neither are trying to do you actual harm is suggestive that they like you to a degree. You’re obviously winning them over.”

Edward humphed vaguely but chose not to argue that particular point. Instead he picked up the box of chocolates Oswald had brought and carefully chose another piece.

“How do you know who’ll be worth your time?”

“Hhmm?” Penguin pulled the box towards himself and surveyed its contents. “What do you mean?”

“How do you know which new criminals to monitor? Which to cultivate friendly relations with. I mean, how did you know I would be a worthy investment?”

The chocolate was forgotten as Oswald focused on him across the table.

“You’re forgetting that you approached me. That was a fairly clear indicator that you weren’t going to be another run of the mill acquaintance.”

“Granted.” Ed waved this away. “But with the others? Scarecrow has been around a while, I get that, but Mad Hatter was relatively new on the scene. What made him stand out from the crowd? Why should Scarecrow be protecting him?”

There was a pause as Penguin clearly organised his thoughts and Edward waited patiently, knowing the other man had probably never been called upon to analyse his compatriots before.

“I cannot speak for what Jonathan sees in the Mad Hatter,” he started carefully. “But I can agree he’s established himself as a player in this cabaret. My mind would categorise the rogues of the gallery we belong to into three groups. Firstly, those fated to be exiles from normal society. The likes of Joker and Killer Croc. Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Clayface… even Victor Fries. They would have a difficult time being anything other than what society sees them as. Freaks. Although,” he allowed with a dip of his head, “I will admit some of them embrace the role more enthusiastically than others.”

Riddler scoffed.

“I doubt Joker would ever choose a normal life even if he were given every opportunity.”

“No,” Penguin agreed. “Pamela probably wouldn’t either. She is so very dedicated to her beloved plants. The others though, if the option presented itself might. Two-Face does seems to swing between the two extremes of wanting to uphold the law versus trying to bring it down entirely.”

“That doesn’t explain the Mad Hatter though. Nor Crane.”

“Those two fall into the second category. In which I would place Ms Isley if it were not for her toxicity. That of having a vocation. A lifelong obsession.”

“I thought Jervis got caught up in crime because of a girl?” Edward frowned.

“He did, yet it was his need and ability to control people that enabled his crime. With that sort of power at his fingertips, one might argue it was only a matter of time until he took the wrong path. Jonathan of course has focused his life on uncovering the secrets of fears and phobias. An exhaustive topic I’m sure. Catwoman too probably belongs in this group, when she isn’t playing nice with Batman.”

“Because of her dedication to felines,” Edward agreed. “I can see that. But what’s your third category?”

“That would be the flash-in-the-pans. Those triggered by a singular event, unlikely to be repeated and ultimately unsustainable.”

Edward frowned to himself.

“Wouldn’t my revenge against Mockridge have put me in that category?”

“Perhaps. Yet as I said, you proved yourself unique right from the start. You outwitted the Bat and then you sought me out. Even if you hadn’t though I think the sheer scale of your scheme might have set you apart. The elaborate set-up of the labyrinth showed a flair for the dramatic that indicates a personality that wants recognition. You might not have been seeking to have the world acknowledge you then but that was only a matter of time once you’d proved it to your immediate tormentor.”

Riddler couldn’t help but preen slightly.

“And they shall bow to the Riddler,” he declared. “Next time, I will show the world I am not to be ignored.”

Penguin smiled indulgently.

“Such theatricality. You truly enjoy flaunting your intelligence. Which is why you would never be a one hit wonder.”

The honest flattery disconcerted Edward, being unused to such consistent admiration. He found himself turning the conversation back on the other man.

“You haven’t put yourself in any category. Do you consider yourself more akin with the mafia dons?”

“Not at all.” Oswald sniffed derisively. “I may deal with them but I am not one of them. None of them have my courage to take risks. They hide behind their legions of lackeys, wallowing in their perceived status. They have no drama in their souls! They wouldn’t risk a showdown with the Bat for the prestige of stealing highly sought after, rare, prized stamps.”

Edward arched an eyebrow at that and deliberately reached across to help himself to another chocolate.

“Stamps?” he asked. “Is that your next target?”

Penguin finally realised he’d said too much and flushed slightly.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he amended with a hasty glance to the bored guard who was paying them little to no attention. Edward smirked.

“Well, whatever you end up doing next, I look forward to seeing you humiliating the Bat on the news.”

He was gratified to see the warm smile return to Oswald’s face.


	14. Beware The Ides Of March

Edward was doing his best to appear unconcerned but as he stepped into the recreation room instead of his habitual destination of the visitor room it was difficult. Normally he prided himself on his cool and collected demeanour but apparently it wasn’t tough enough in the current circumstances.

“What’s the matter?” Jonathan scowled at him as Ed tried to unobtrusively slink into the seat at the far end of the sofa. “You and Penguin have a lover’s tiff?”

The accusation irked him but not for the childish implication attached to the terminology. He had long since ceased worrying about people assuming his sexuality one way or the other and being linked romantically with Oswald was not something he’d consider insulting, even though it wasn’t actually true. What he did find irritating was the apparent ease with which the Scarecrow could sense his weakness.

He took a second to remind himself that Jonathan was in actuality a qualified professor, and not just any other fool, before replying.

“No, we haven’t fallen out. Oswald is a successful business man. It stands to reason he can’t always be available to visit.”

“He’s made time for you every week so far though,” Jon pressed, turning his focus more fully on Edward.

“Well not this week apparently.”

Even he could hear the snarky tone to his voice and he could see Jonathan smirking from the corner of his gaze. The man was far too skilled at pushing people’s buttons.

Luckily for Edward, Jonathan was interrupted in his dissection by their other companion.

“She generally gave herself very good advice though she very seldom followed it.”

“Who’s that?” he asked, grateful for the distraction.

Jervis and Jonathan both gave him identical disbelieving stares as the Mad Hatter answered.

“Why Alice of course.”

“Of course,” he muttered drily, sinking further into the uncomfortable cushions.

“Perhaps I should have sought legal counsel,” Jervis continued with a blink back to rationality, “about copyrighting my designs.”

“I think most people consider your designs unethical,” Ed pointed out. “I doubt anyone will steal them.”

“You say that yet how are they any different from that virtual reality unit you purloined? Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.”

“I think the main difference is people can _choose_ to go into a virtual reality game. They don’t get any choice when you slip one of your cards on someone.”

“Do any of us really have free will though?” Jonathan interjected. “Society is a construct designed to force us into whatever mould it deems fitting.”

“You see?” Jervis grinned. “I’m simply freeing people from one reality and allowing them to experience another. So, do you think Penguin could advise me on my legal position? Or would I be better speaking to Mister Dent?”

“Two-Face?” Edward focused on the later part on that sentence and ignored the nonsensical beginning. “I don’t think you could count on him for reliable advice.”

“And you would say Penguin does?”

Jervis’ gaze felt a tad too inquisitive for Edward’s comfort and he glanced away with a vague shrug.

“He’s helped me tremendously. When I’m out of here I’ll be well prepared for entering the world of business myself. Have my own productive life without being subject to abusive, small minded employers.”

“That’s your ambition then?” Jervis seemed eager in his questioning and Edward felt his compulsion to answer rise accordingly.

“Exactly. I shall head up my own corporation… with any luck the one currently ticking over under the feeble mind of Mockridge… and create the most brilliant puzzles ever to challenge the brainiest amongst us.”

Jervis sniffed somewhat dismissively at this statement.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you topping Lewis Carroll. He’s currently considered the greatest puzzle master.”

Nygma frowned.

“That was decades ago. A new generation needs a new challenge. And who better than the Riddler?”

“You are old, Father William, the young man said, and your hair has become very white;”

Jonathan took up as Jervis left off as if he were simply completing the quotation.

“Age will only mellow it a little, and give it a holier tone.”

Both of them gave him satisfied looks as if this quite settled the argument.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Ed pointed out.

“A riddle then!” Jervis declared. “Surely if you’re correct then you’ll have no trouble answering one of Carroll’s riddles?”

“Of course not.” Edward tilted his chin up defiantly.

“A Russian had three sons,” Jervis began diligently. “The first, named Rab, became a lawyer. The second, named Ymra, became a soldier. The third became a sailor: what was his name?”

Riddler pondered this a second before frowning irritably.

“You haven’t given me enough information to solve it,” he complained.

“I assure you, you have everything you need in order to give me the right answer.”

“But I don’t know anything about Russian naming traditions! I don’t speak the language! It isn’t a fair riddle!”

Jervis had the audacity to chuckle.

“You don’t need to know Russian. The answer is staring you right in the face my friend.”

He was considering giving the Mad Hatter something right in his face when Jonathan interrupted again.

“What I don’t understand is,” –Edward looked up hopefully. If Jonathan queried the riddle and got an answer, or at least a hint, then it wouldn’t count as _him_ failing to solve it– “why Penguin would be giving you all this help.”

The hopeful expression fell from his face but he still gratefully seized on this change in conversation. Not that he was giving up. Just buying himself more time.

“It’s an investment,” he replied. “Helping me become successful will ultimately help him branch out his sphere of influence.”

“Into a games market? An extension on his casino racket?”

“Exactly. I’ll bring extra revenue in by coordinating with his Iceberg Lounge customers.”

“That’s a rather optimist long term plan isn’t it? I mean he’s putting in a lot of effort now for possibly no reward.”

“He believes in my abilities,” Edward said smugly. “And Oswald is a man of vision. Looking to the future and arranging things early to bring a favourable outcome.”

Jonathan hummed thoughtfully at that.

“And the little visits and tokens of affections are… what?”

“Well, they’re… more investments. Consolidating our partnership.”

The smirk on Jonathan’s face suggested he had a different interpretation to put forward but this time they were interrupted by Jervis whose patience had worn out.

“Yvan,” he snapped.

“What?” Edward blinked in confusion.

Jervis folded his arms huffily.

“The answer to the riddle is Yvan.”

“Why on Earth is that the answer? Is it Russian numbers? Rab, Yrma, Yvan?”

“No. But you can work out the logic yourself. I don’t want to play anymore.”

And that was the last he could get out of either of them.


	15. A Friend Should Bear His Friend's Infirmities

“A giant rubber duck?” Edward repeated.

Oswald looked at him irritably.

“Is that really the most interesting part of this tale to you? Not the tracking down of the Batmobile, the sabotage, the near disaster on the airfield?”

Edward waved all this away.

“Yes, I’m impressed at the deduction,” he conceded. “And the overall audacity of the scheme but… I don’t understand why you’d just happen to have a giant rubber duck to hand?”

There was a long suffering sigh as Oswald realised Ed wasn’t about to let go of this detail.

“Because it’s convenient to have floating transportation to navigate the sewer network and Gotham fairgrounds aren’t noted for their avian themed rides. I wasn’t about to spend good money on getting something new when so many perfectly good options were lying around abandoned.”

“Weren’t there any of those swan paddle things?”

“Firstly, I am not prepared to paddle myself through the sewers and secondly, no.” He crossed his arms. “Blackgate was fine, thank you for asking.”

Edward tilted his head and couldn’t help his fond smile at the puffed up bird across from him.

“Blackgate is basically a motel for you now,” he reminded him. “You check in when necessity demands but stay as briefly as possible.”

“It still costs to get myself out and its never an experience I _enjoy._”

“Of course not,” Edward spoke more soothingly. It did little to calm the ruffled feathers though. “I missed you,” he added. “When you didn’t visit. I worried about you.”

That had more of an impact and his visitor visibly relaxed.

“The news reported your car had been sliced in half laterally. They didn’t say you’d been injured but…”

“Asides from some whiplash, and scrapes from the tarmac, I’m fit as a fiddle. It was poor timing, I confess, that you received no word. I had hoped to be done and turning up with news of my victory but alas, it was not to be.”

Edward nodded and considered how best to reply. A part of him was concerned that such injuries, even though less severe than he’d feared, were accepted as part of his career choice but that was the life he chose. Although he thought perhaps Penguin might come to view his less hands-on approach with greater appeal, especially if Nygma himself opted for a more business focused approach. Or perhaps not, he realised as he heard Penguin continuing blithely.

“The whole backlash about disrupting the airport flights has given me a new idea. People are so enamoured of their ability to fly – so fawning of birds naturally gifted in that area – they’ll pay a lot to keep their mechanical toys that allow them to duplicate that luxury.”

“Attacking the Batman via his technology was a clever move,” he agreed. “Physically he’s quite imposing but he is also highly reliant on all his gadgets. Take them away and he’s little more than any other common bully.”

“And we know how to deal with those, do we not?”

The jocular tone was lost on Ed as recent memories surfaced and he subconsciously rubbed at where his foot was resting up across his knee. Penguin immediately noticed the move though.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Did someone hurt you? If so, I shall pull every string to get them special treatment.”

The low growl to his voice left no confusion over what he meant by ‘special treatment’ and Ed allowed himself a moment to bask in the warmth of having someone else’s concern for a change.

“There’s no need,” he explained. “Scarecrow ‘accidently’ dropped his cast on my foot but we used the bruising to falsely accuse one of the guards of negligence and abuse.” He grinned briefly. “Although it did turn out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back as he shortly after snapped and beat Jonathan to a pulp.”

“What?!” Oswald squawked. “What on Earth has Scarecrow been getting you involved in?”

“It was his and Jervis’ game really.” Ed shrugged. “They managed to control one of the guards and subtly psychologically torture him for weeks, to see if they could break him. It seems they could.”

“Edward! What if he’d snapped when you were taunting him? Or cracked because he realised you were intellectually superior and mocking him? You could have been seriously hurt!”

“Have a little faith Oswald. I’ve learnt how to goad people in the right way to get the result I want. And Crane is a surprisingly competent psychiatrist, given his obsession with phobias.”

“So he was aiming to get beaten up was he?”

Edward shrugged again, wholly unconcerned.

“I don’t think he really cared _how_ Palmer snapped as long as he _did._”

“Edward… _please_ try not to antagonise anyone unnecessarily. There are some dangerous people in Arkham with you – on both sides of the cell walls.”

“You’re one to talk. Going out and deliberately provoking the Bat.”

“That’s different! Batman is a hindrance to my plans. He interferes in my life whether I want him to or not. Isn’t it better for me to try and eliminate him on my terms?”

“Not directly! You have enough wealth to hire people to do your dirty work for you. You don’t need to put yourself in harm’s way.”

“That would be fine if I could hire anyone with even half a brain cell to spare,” he huffed. “They couldn’t even steal the right things for me. Not everyone has your brilliance Edward. That’s why you should take care. Thugs are two-a-penny but Riddlers are rare and I’ll worry about you even more if I know you’re being deliberately provocative.”

The unrestrained concern gave Ed pause and he looked at his friend carefully.

“I’ll be careful, I promise, as long as you are as well. Some types of penguins are endangered too you know.” Riddler smiled hopefully at him before adding, “But I do want to learn about all forms of manipulation. Didn’t you tell me yourself its necessary in life as in business?”

“Yes, I did.” Oswald’s shoulders sagged slightly. He looked almost defeated and Ed found himself wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“Your assistance has been invaluable. I would never have managed so well in here without your advice. In fact I’d say its because of you I’ve found myself. I’d even say I was thriving.”

The flattery brought a reciprocal smile out of Oswald and he relaxed again.

“On that note, I have something else for you.” He reached down to the bag he’d brought with him and rummaged about as Edward looked on. “You mentioned before that Crane and Tetch were using their literary knowledge to exclude you so…” He sat up and deposited two books upon the table. “These should help you understand them better.”

A brief glance showed Edward _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass_ looking quite bright and cheerful atop a dark ominous volume of _The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe_. He grinned.


	16. We Two Alone Will Sing Like Birds I' The Cage

Edward had anticipated enjoying the comparative freedom that came with Jonathan being confined to the infirmary. Without the psychology professor looming at every gathering Ed felt no challenge to his intelligence. Not that he felt Jonathan was truly on his level but it was true that the man had a way of undermining everything Riddler said.

He was also grateful to Oswald for the book of Poe’s writings which he started reading at every opportunity so he might be more prepared to parry any quotations flung his way by the resident gothic fan upon his return.

The first week was as close to pleasant as Arkham had ever been for him, with Jervis hanging on his every word about his learned knowledge in competitive business and the expectation of Oswald’s repeat visit to discuss afore mentioned plans. He should have known it was too good to last.

The news was full of Penguin’s latest capture and Edward felt himself gritting his teeth. The audacious nature of his scheme demanding 100 million dollars – and the accompanying destruction of the suspension bridge – would mean it took that much longer for Oswald to bargain his way out. He didn’t want to admit how much that fact upset him, especially not to Jervis who was being so softly sympathetic in asking if he was alright.

He regretted snapping at the man and ignoring him when the Mad Hatter was most unexpectedly released a few days later. Not because there might be lingering ill feelings, no, it was only because that meant it was that much longer between sane – or semi-sane at least – conversations for him.

He tried to lose himself in Poe’s poems but poetry had never held much interest for him. It made no sense to him why people would spend so long crafting carefully balanced structures without any clear _meaning_. He remembered his school English teacher saying it was about the feeling but he could rarely understand what feeling exactly was meant to be conveyed. When he’d pointed that out she had seemed pleased and said that was because they each had different meanings to different individuals.

It was at this point in his childhood that he’d dismissed them as being wishy washy and had found instead the much more structured language of riddles. There was no disputing _their_ meaning.

Of course when he switched to Lewis Carroll’s celebrated writing he found it impossible to decipher and was bemused at how a scientist like Tetch could devote so much of his life to such utter nonsense. Ultimately he discarded that book along with Poe’s and resigned himself to having only his thoughts for company.

Which was fine for a little while but Riddler craved acknowledgment and stimulation more than anything. Without civil companions amongst his fellow inmates he actually found himself glad when his regular doctor session rolled around.

Doctor Jean Leland might be dogmatic and unwilling to play his word games but she was at least logical and responsive, which was more than could said for anyone else currently in his vicinity. Putting up with her determination to change him was a small price to pay for some basic human interaction.

“Edward,” Leland laid down her pen to focus her full attention on him. “You have a high likelihood of passing your next review meeting. It’s clear you have the ability to be a fully functioning member of society. Your crimes were prompted by perceived injustices against you and it can be argued you have learnt your lesson. _However_, you need to actually listen to the board members and respond to their questions without posing riddles to them. I know you can do that. So why don’t you?”

“Because I should not have to prove my sanity to people so far beneath me they cannot even deduct meaning from a convoluted sentence.”

“Wouldn’t it be the sensible thing to do though? Descend to their level for one hour to ensure your freedom? You have such potential. Your intelligence means you could contribute so much if you chose to use it for mankind’s betterment. I know you’ve spoken of going in to business when you leave. Mister Cobblepot was encouraging you wasn’t he? Wouldn’t that be a better use of your talents than throwing your mental dexterity in the face of people here? Don’t you want to be a free man again?”

Edward couldn’t help his frown from forming as she pleaded and he folded his arms defensively.

“I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I cannot be shared.”

She resisted the urge to sigh and considered his words.

“Love?” she suggested carefully, her mind already analysing the reason he would have posed that riddle at this point in their conversation.

“No,” he snapped. “The answer’s loneliness! I **am** the Riddler. I won’t stoop to others’ ideas of what I should be. Never again will I be that downtrodden, overlooked yes man. That’s what you want me to become again in order to win my ‘freedom’. Nobody out there understood me. No-one appreciated me.”

“Even Penguin?”

Edward blinked.

“Except Oswald,” he conceded softly before rallying. “But he’s not out there right now is he? He’s locked away in Blackgate. Courtesy of the city’s pet chiroptera. Tell me doctor, why is it permissible for one man to dress as a flying rodent, use brute force upon others _he_ deems to be in the wrong, while unacceptable for another to don a question mark motif and challenge those _he_ sees as unfairly domineering with intellectual puzzles?”

“Your ‘puzzles’ were designed to kill, Edward.”

“Only if they were moronic enough to get them wrong! In which case I still say I’d be doing a public service.”

“So you’d rather stay in Arkham?” Leland swiftly brought the conversation back to point. “With others you see as equals?”

“I have no equals,” he answered promptly before almost instinctively adding the caveat. “Not in here.”

Doctor Leland glanced at her notes briskly and made a notation.

“I don’t believe you belong in here Edward. I think you could reform if that’s what you wanted to do. Before our next session I’d like you to give serious thought to where you see yourself in ten years. Still in here, another of this city’s forgotten people, or perhaps out here, building a successful life for yourself.” She stood and gestured for the guard. “And I would suggest you consider what sacrifices might be worth making to ultimately live the life you want.”


	17. The Choices We Make Dictate The Life We Lead

Doctor Leland’s words lingered in the back of Edward’s mind as he continued with his monotonous life in Arkham. He knew exactly where he saw himself in ten years; head of a successful puzzles empire, acknowledged by all as the most brilliant mind in the city. Or in the world really. His plan for it was already in motion. Oswald would assist him and then they’d run the city’s games and entertainment venues between them.

However he did have to concede that his current venue was a hindrance to that plan. She was right in her assessment that he didn’t really belong here. He wasn’t mad. Not like the other inmates. This was only further emphasised by the newest influx of criminals.

Ed was doodling little logic puzzles when they were escorted into the rec room. In all likelihood he wouldn’t have noticed any of them, being utterly engrossed in his mental activity, however one in particular seemed determined not to be ignored.

“Tremble mortals!” The booming voice broke Riddler’s concentration and he looked up in annoyance. “Your god and king has arrived to lead you!”

The speaker was a broad chested, heavily muscled man with a fixed smile and an almost vacant eyed expression. Edward huffed in irritation and turned his gaze away, almost missing the second new inmate being shuffled in. This one was older, bow shouldered and had the look of an academic. Despite himself Ed’s interest was piqued.

He cast a quick glance across to where Jonathan was sat but the other man had been shuttered since his incident with Palmer. Edward wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the medication knocking the Scarecrow out or something else in his psyche playing up but at any rate he didn’t seem interested in investigating this new fish.

Temporarily abandoning his previous pursuit, Riddler meandered his way across to where the nervous man was doing his best to avoid attention, and thus was doing a good job of inviting it.

“You don’t look like our typical resident,” Ed suggested, deliberately ignoring the fact there was nothing ‘typical’ about Arkham’s residents. It had the wanted effect of engaging his target though who smiled nervously at him.

“I’m not… Or I’m not the one who should be… It wasn’t me, you see?”

“Not really.” Edward frowned, wondering if he’d miscalculated in starting a conversation.

His companion inhaled carefully before licking his lips and trying again.

“I was only working _for_ Scarface,” he explained. “_I_ don’t belong in here. Neither does he of course-”

“Scarface?” Riddler interrupted. “You’re the Ventriloquist?”

“That’s what the media call me.” He scrunched his nose. “They don’t understand. I don’t control Scarface. No-one does.” He offered another shaky smile. “I’m Arnold Wesker.”

Ed puffed out his chest slightly.

“The Riddler,” he replied. He would not admit to hoping for any fawning recognition.

“Oh yes!” Arnold nodded in recognition. “Mister Scarface knew about you. But he didn’t have any immediate plans to dispose of you,” he added quickly as if he thought Riddler would have been concerned.

Ed decided to let the comment pass for now although he noted that this ‘Scarface’ personality would probably make the mistake of underestimating him.

“I gather his plan was to take over the criminal underworld? To challenge the mafia?”

“Scarface thought it was good timing.” Wesker nodded again. “Since Two-Face had impacted on Thorne’s operations and it seems like the Penguin might have lost his edge-”

“What?” Edward hissed, unable to stop himself.

Wesker immediately waved his hands apologetically.

“I didn’t think so! But Scarface thought-”

“Oswald recently stole a prototype stealth helicopter from under the military’s very nose! He had his hand round the city’s throat! He would be more than a match for some ridiculous puppet.”

“**Dummy.**”

The quiet yet firm response caught Ed off guard.

“What?”

“Mister Scarface is not a ‘puppet’,” Wesker told him in a tone brooking no argument.

For a long moment Edward considered arguing the semantics. What did it matter if he called it a puppet or dummy? It was a piece of wood! A personality extracted from the broken mind in from of him.

Then he took a deep breath and held his own hands up in surrender.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re locked in here with nothing and no-one and Oswald is still running his empire from Blackgate. He’ll put Mister Scarface in his place when he decides it’s necessary. You’re not even on his radar yet.”

So saying he turned and stalked over to sit in the spot everyone else was avoiding, right next to Scarecrow, without waiting to hear any reply Wesker might make.

“The nerve!” he announced. “That pipsqueak thinks he’s the equal of the Penguin! Just wait until I tell Oswald.”

“_Do you know Aesop’s fables?_”

The rough grating voice momentarily disconcerted Edward. Truthfully he hadn’t expected Jonathan, or Scarecrow, to speak to him at all. He smothered his jolt before answering.

“Which one?”

“_There was to be a terrible war between the birds and the beasts,_” Scarecrow continued almost as if he hadn’t heard. “_The birds asked the penguin to join them but he said he was a beast. The beasts asked him to join them but he said he was a bird. The war didn’t happen but both sides remembered his answer to them. The penguin has no friends. He is alone._”

Edward shifted uncomfortably, at a loss for the purpose of Jonathan’s little speech.

“I thought that fable focused on the bat?” he hazarded.

Scarecrow turned and fixed his blank stare upon him.

“_Do not trust any creature which is neither one thing nor the other,_” he insisted. “_They’ll only betray you in the end._”

Jonathan sank back down into his self-imposed exile and left Edward anxiously staring at him. He’d never appreciated before how much Jervis obviously balanced out Jonathan’s darker persona – how much he brought him out of his gloomy shell – and Edward found himself wishing the Mad Hatter were back with them to deal with Jonathan. It was beyond his own limited social skills.

That thought led him back to thinking about how much he missed Oswald’s guidance and company. He’d never had such a friend before and knew with utter certainty he’d never find another like him. Locked away with only himself for company, he found it impossible not to delve into the memories of each and every interaction. Those weeks of the first true freedom he’d ever known helped keep his hope alive.

Those days had helped form him into the Riddler. They’d shown him that crime certainly _did_ pay, if you were smart about it. There was no way now he could ever go back to the man he was before. Oswald had seen the potential in him and he was determined to not only live up to his expectations but supersede them.

Once he had his freedom again, he was not going to let himself be repressed ever again.


	18. What Sport Shall We Devise?

Edward had hoped that Jervis’ return to Arkham would bring a return to familiar conversations but that was not to be. Doctor Bartholomew had blamed the Mad Hatter’s latest relapse on Scarecrow’s influence and issued a strict ban on any interaction between the pair. While Edward didn’t especially care about that, he _did_ care about having to deal with either Jervis’ petulant complaints or Jonathan’s increasingly disturbing paranoia.

So when Jervis proposed he act as an undercover intermediary he was happy to accept. Even asides from negating each rogue’s problematic behaviours, the proposition appealed to his puzzle loving mind. Choosing his translation with care so that the intended recipient would understand while simultaneously baffling the admittedly lesser minds of their minders.

If Edward would admit to any fault, then it would probably be his competitive nature. It wasn’t that he saw himself as an aggressive player – on the contrary, he was a scrupulously fair player – but he could not rest until he’d achieved a set objective.

Which all meant that when challenged to a game of subterfuge, he couldn’t resist. It didn’t hurt that the Mad Hatter’s recent scheme had centred upon making Veronica Vreeland his puppet. Edward still thought of her as the epitome of everything wrong with high society and he was willing to help Jervis in thanks for showing her up as a vapid fool.

The game also had the benefit of distracting his own thoughts from worrying about Oswald’s continued absence.

Jonathan was sitting as morosely as ever when Edward approached him. The lanky man didn’t even glance up when the Riddler was stood right in front of him. Ed decided not to stand on ceremony but get right to the point.

“I’m used for cover, but am not a tent. I’m made of fabric, but am not an umbrella.”

He hesitated, not sure whether this wasn’t too easy but also not sure if Jonathan was going to even play along. Then Scarecrow slowly raised his head and Edward saw his eyes flicker briefly across the room to where Hat was sitting primly.

“Men have called me mad,” Jonathan suggested to which Ed nodded his agreement. Jon nodded thoughtfully back before adding; “An incident has occurred which has given me new room for meditation.”

“Indeed,” he replied distractedly while his mind sourced the quote.

He smirked when he remembered the title of that particular story was ‘MS in a bottle’. Very appropriate indeed. With renewed confidence he continued their strange dialogue.

“A plane where kings and queens contend?”

In truth he could have just asked Jonathan if he wanted to play chess but where would the fun be in that? And he was rewarded with a somewhat wry smile as the other man unfolded himself and headed over to the worn board in lieu of answer. He wondered if the master of fear understood the dual purpose of Riddler’s suggestion.

While superficially it would disguise any lengthy conversation from particular notice, Ed would be lying if he wasn’t also interested to pit his mind against Jonathan’s. Not that he had any doubt of the outcome. It was simply that he wished to put the arrogant Scarecrow firmly in his place as intellectual second.

Watching the careful movement of predictable pieces, he took up their talk, now half focused on his message and half on the strategy in front of him.

“Black crows on a white bank.” He smirked at the sudden frown of confusion on his opponent’s face. “I planted black rice in white earth; it could not be harvested by a knife but only the mind.” He deftly took another of Jonathan’s playing pieces before teasingly adding. “They are saying, Caw! Caw!”

Jonathan scowled across at him.

"It is this possession, and not any employment of the letter, which bestows the power. With the employment the power departs."

The reply gave Edward pause as he considered the meaning. It was certainly true that any discovery of letters between Jervis and Jonathan, no matter how artfully concealed the messages within, would be evidence against them. Other privileges they currently had could be taken away. Most likely one or the other – and probability suggested Scarecrow – would end up in solitary.

“How many were going to St Ives?”

Jonathan didn’t reply verbally but surveyed the board and briskly took an inconsequential pawn, holding it up between them for emphasis before finally replying.

“I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.”

Edward was willing to concede that idea. He glanced over the board again and checked every move was going to plan before putting forward his next suggestion.

“What lives without body, carries without any hands. Few can hear it and none can see it.”

He was aware that Jonathan was staring at him with his typical unimpressed look but he deliberately ignored it in favour of casting another satisfied glance over their game.

“Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear.”

He knew Jonathan meant that as a disparaging remark but Edward was nothing if not confident in his ideas.

“_Precisely_,” he persevered meeting the cold stare head on. “She fell but was not broken, yet departed with a break.”

Jonathan held his stare a long few seconds before huffing in defeat and turning his gaze back to his next move.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars."

Riddler couldn’t restrain his smug smile as he sat back in satisfaction at conveying the plan to a stubborn Scarecrow under the noses of the doctors and guards. He should have remembered the adage about resting upon one’s laurels.

Jonathan cast a taunting glance up at him.

“As black as ink and isn’t ink. As white as milk and isn’t milk. As soft as silk and isn’t silk, and walks about like a pendulum.”

“A penguin,” Edward answered automatically before frowning in annoyance. “What does Oswald have to do with anything?”

Now they were no longer discussing their deception he switched back into ordinary speech. Jonathan however did not.

“There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute,” he declaimed with the air of a teacher, “which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.”

Edward’s frown increased.

“Are you calling Oswald Cobblepot a _brute_?”

“_Neither a bird nor a beast was the penguin,_” Scarecrow reminded him.

“No,” Edward insisted. “He’s a great man. And he’s been a good friend to me. I do not appreciate you-”

He was cut off mid rant by Jonathan deftly snatching up his king.

“Check mate,” he declared, throwing a self-satisfied look Riddler’s way. Edward opened his mouth to protest again before thinking to actually look down at the game board. He’d been completely distracted by the teasing and allowed his opponent to out manoeuvre him.

Looking back up, he glared in silent reproach.

“Best of three?” Jonathan offered cheerfully.


	19. That Will Free Your Life But Fetter You Till Death

Opportunities in Gotham needed to be seized if you wanted to thrive there. Edward knew this lesson well and was equally capable of deducing the most propitious moment of any plan to turn the tables.

He had gone along with the Mad Hatter’s game of holding a trial for Batman in the asylum. With all the rogues temporarily working together it made it much easier to incapacitate the guards and side-line the doctors. However Riddler was not at all interested in following his mockery of the judicial system to its conclusion.

As he saw it, either they would succeed in executing the Batman – in which case all the inmates would flood out onto the streets – or the Batman would escape and put them all back behind bars. Either way it was better to leave early. If anyone asked he would explain he was simply avoiding the rush, not lacking any faith in his compatriots.

Truth to tell he had had more than enough of incarceration. It was dull in the extreme with only Jon and Jervis to offer any distraction. Even Doctor Leland had little diversion to offer since there was no malady in his mind to fix. Added to which, the latest news to reach them suggested Penguin was once again free in the city and Edward had the greatest desire to surprise him with a visit.

So while he had made no actual plans to break out – not for lack of ability, simply because he didn’t relish the idea of being a hunted felon – when the doors were literally opened for him he had no hesitation in walking out.

Walking in to the Iceberg Lounge was another matter. He’d kept a low profile on his journey, knowing that even if the Batman wasn’t actively on his trail then the GCPD would be alert to the break out. While he knew Oswald wanted to keep all criminal connections away from his establishment, Edward knew it was the quickest and safest way to get himself out of immediate danger. He just had to trust that Penguin wouldn’t refuse him entry.

The bouncers on the doorway clearly recognised him and he saw the minute worry cross their faces as they assessed his current status. After a second’s pause though they obviously decided it would be more discreet to allow him in than cause a scene at the entrance. He tipped his bowler hat to them as he passed as a silent recognition of their forbearance and a promise to behave.

Inside was bustling with crowds of happy patrons and it was relatively easy for Riddler to sneak into a secluded spot from where he could look out for Penguin. It didn’t take long to spot him. The proprietor was gliding gracefully amongst his guests seemingly bathing in their attention. Edward abruptly realised a lot of people here were present solely to say they’d been part of the scene when Penguin had made his reappearance in society.

And the canny businessman was milking that notoriety.

Edward took a few minutes to appreciate the elegance with which Penguin operated. He knew the man had no especial love for the common crowds but to see him now you would think he was with just a few hundred of his closest friends. While Riddler certainly knew how to appeal to a crowd, he didn’t have Penguin’s gift for close up charm. It was an area where Edward knew he would always have to concede superiority to Oswald.

Then Oswald’s gaze flashed his way and Edward was treated to quite a sight.

The gaze flickered over him, in the same brisk calculating way it looked over everyone, before snapping back with the force of a magnetic lock. Oswald’s disbelief was plain in his dropped jaw before his entire face simply lit up in undisguised delight and Edward felt a flush of warmth at the open happiness. Then Penguin blinked and reality crashed back down.

His features twisted into an irritated frown and he glared disapprovingly before throwing a brief gesture towards the secluded stairway that led to his office. Ed nodded immediately in understanding and wasted no time in following the unspoken instruction. The very last thing he wanted to do was antagonise his only friend when he needed his help.

He had a few minutes alone, where he looked over the office seeing everything just as he remembered, and then the door swung open to reveal a rather flustered Penguin.

“What are you _doing_ here? I haven’t finished negotiating your release yet!”

Edward’s initial response got derailed by that piece of unexpected information.

“You were negotiating my release?”

“Of course I was. I’d have had the final signatures of your doctors after your next session. Now though…”

“Jervis orchestrated a plan to lure in the Bat and unleash his own version of justice,” he explained in a rush. “What was I supposed to do when the door was literally opened for me?”

Penguin surveyed him thoughtfully, mind obviously whirling with possibilities.

“I suppose it could be argued you were _avoiding_ a confrontation situation. And your first action has hardly been an act against the people who locked you away. Although not exactly the ideal response to the situation.”

“I’m sorry I turned up here like this Oswald. But I didn’t know who else to go to.”

This was waved away immediately.

“Its no matter. What are friends for after all?” Oswald smiled up at him and Edward couldn’t help himself.

“You’re my best friend Oswald. The best friend I’ve ever had. I’d be lost without you.”

The admission won him another pure happy smile which was worth any discomfort he felt.

“I assure you I feel quite the same. You are my dearest… closest friend. Of course I wasn’t going to leave you in Arkham any longer. If it hadn’t been for my own incarceration I would have had you out sooner.”

“Do you think this rebellion by the inmates will complicate things?”

“Its nothing a little donation to their fund won’t solve,” Oswald declared. “And it has the advantage of allowing you your freedom sooner. We won’t have to wait for their bureaucracy although I may have to stand surety for you. In which case I shall have to keep a very close watch on my investment,” he teased before his expression dropped into one of concern. “That is if you don’t mind staying with me while the formalities are completed?”

“Not at all. I can think of no-one I’d rather spend my time with.”

“Excellent. Then I shall contact the authorities at once to confirm your immediate liberty.”


	20. The Law Of Friendship Bids Me To Conceal

When Edward awoke the next morning, he felt more rested than he could remember feeling in a very long time. Despite Oswald’s apologies about the rather basic amenities of his pull out office couch and minimal bathing facilities in the Iceberg Lounge, it was considerably more comfortable than anything he had experienced in Arkham. Added to which his wake up call was decidedly more pleasant.

“I brought pastries from the bakery,” Oswald announced after cautious knocking had garnered him an invite in. “Plus coffee.”

Edward briefly wondered about the wisdom of consuming sugar and caffeine while still coming off his enforced medication before deciding that it was worth the risk.

“I have an errand to run today,” Oswald continued. “Ivy was in touch to suggest a meeting since she also made the most of last night’s opportunity. You’re welcome to come with me. If you’d like?”

Sipping his coffee gave Edward a moment to consider this proposition.

“Will that be safe? Two fugitive inmates in the same place?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought it would put you in danger,” Oswald huffed. “Besides, Ivy informs me she is staying with her resident physician. I believe she has prevailed upon him to secure her early release too.” He smirked.

“Ah.” Edward could easily imagine how Ivy might have done that. She had a way with men. “In that case it sounds like a far more interesting way to spend the day than hiding out in here. No offence to your club.”

“I’d be a strange bird indeed to take offence at you preferring my company to an empty cage.” Oswald smiled as he headed for the door. “Join me when you’re ready to leave.”

Ed savoured not having to rush as well as the little variations he could now indulge. Simple things like eating his breakfast before showering and dressing. While he was fond of routine, he didn’t appreciate having his routine dictated for him. And even he liked some variety in his day to day activities.

Still it wasn’t long before he was rejoining Oswald and heading with him to his chauffeur driven car. It was only when they were on their way that it occurred to him to ask where they were actually heading to.

“It’s a little… social enterprise that Ivy and I co-manage. Through dummy companies so no scandal from our other activities will affect it.”

“Should you be visiting then?”

“We have to occasionally. To assess how things are going and apply our particular expertise. It’s perfectly safe though. It’s been closed for the day for essential health and safety work.”

The journey continued through the city and out into the more suburban districts that Ed was less familiar with. While he logically knew this lessened any chance of them being observed he couldn’t help but feel exposed out here all the same. It wasn’t until they passed under a pale stone archway, just high enough for a van to pass under, that he felt the tension leave his shoulders.

The car drove along a short driveway until it stopped at what was clearly a greenhouse.

As Ed got out of the car he cast his gaze up at the script over the entryway.

‘Botanical Garden and Bird Bower’  
‘The Tropics’

“You run a bird sanctuary?”

“I have a fondness for my avian brethren. Just as Ms Isley has for her botanical children. Since the two are so very often co-dependent, it made sense to combine our knowledge and resources to care for those in greatest danger and offer a chance for scientists to study them at close range.”

As Oswald spoke he led Edward into the humid atmosphere of the glass house. It was full of a multitude of lush looking plants with various types of birds flitting about. They both stopped as Oswald was distracted with watching a hummingbird feeding from a trumpet shaped flower.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?” he murmured.

Edward turned his gaze from the childlike look of wonder on his companion’s face and admired the iridescent plumage of the flyer. He hummed in acknowledgement even as his mind began assessing the aerodynamic capabilities of the fast moving wings. They were both startled by the interruption of another voice.

“I didn’t know we were bringing dates.”

As Poison Ivy strolled into view, her look clearly indicated she was less than pleased to see Riddler.

“I thought we agreed to keep this project secret, Penguin?”

“Edward won’t betray us. Will you Ed?”

“Absolutely not. What kind of friend would that make me?”

“That better not be a riddle,” Ivy accused.

“My veiled face is my face itself; unveiled it is annulled. I am hidden and concealed, yet if you discover me, I will disappear before your eyes forever.”

Edward couldn’t resist gesturing with his hands as he recited the riddle but Ivy still looked distinctly unimpressed. Oswald however laughed.

“A secret!” he declared.

Edward smiled indulgently.

“Close enough,” he agreed.

Seemingly having enough of this wordplay, Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I guess it’s too late to do anything about you seeing this place anyway. Unless…” a slow smile spread across her face as she cast a more appraising gaze over Ed.

“Ivy,” Penguin admonished with a warning tone. “Edward is my friend. I would not appreciate you hypnotising him.”

She arched an elegant eyebrow at him.

“Close friend,” Ed agreed, trying to shift closer to Oswald without making it obvious.

“Fine,” she huffed again. “Just as long as you don’t forget why you’re here. This isn’t meant to be a day out.”

“Of course not. I want to ensure the new humming birds are properly treated just as much as you want to ensure the… the…”

“Aechmea pectinate,” she supplied with an eye roll.

“Is that a bromeliad?”

Both his companions looked at Riddler in surprise at the question.

“How do you know that?” Ivy queried with renewed interest.

He shrugged vaguely.

“I have an eidetic memory. If I’ve seen it somewhere chances are I’ll remember it.”

“Huh.” She looked him over again. “I can see how that might be useful.”

“See? You might be glad I brought him,” Oswald suggested smugly.

Ivy smirked right back at him.

“Not as glad as you getting to show off your boyfriend.”

Oswald chuckled slightly at that and Edward briefly admired the fact that he was above being riled by such childish taunts before he caught the uncertain glance his way. He smiled back to indicate he too was merely amused at the obvious attempt to disturb them and was relieved to see Oswald relax. He would have hated to think Oswald was disgusted by even such a suggestion or thought _he_ was.

As Ivy turned to begin their assigned task, Edward insinuated himself closer to Oswald. Hopefully he might work out which birds the Penguin used for what purposes. Even if he didn’t, he knew the day would certainly be more enlightening than any he’d had recently now he was back with his friend.


	21. The Fool Doth Think He Is Wise

It was only a matter of days before Riddler’s early release was approved by the Arkham doctors. Naturally Ivy had got in first with her more intimate powers of persuasion but Edward found he couldn’t begrudge her stealing the headlines. The last thing he wanted right now was to draw unnecessary attention to himself or his companion.

He was still staying at the Iceberg. After his initial incarceration he had naturally missed the rent payments on his flat so the landlord had revoked his tenancy. He had yet to establish himself in Gotham in any manner that provided a secure income nor to build up any sort of nest egg for such eventualities. There was also the fact that until his official paperwork came through, he was technically a fugitive and it was best to hold tight in his refuge.

It helped that his ‘refuge’ was designed for comfort and came equipped with staff who were under instructions to make his stay as pleasant as possible. Having a friend frequently on hand for company didn’t hurt either and Ed knew he would miss that if he did set out to stake a claim on some abandoned real estate.

Still Ed felt that he was imposing but Oswald insisted it was the least he could do for him. Ed wasn’t one to let time pass idly though and he found himself thinking about improvements that could be made to the Lounge. Not that he would dream of telling Penguin how to run his club but he couldn’t help the flashes of inspiration as he sat around in the afternoon watching the slow preparations for the evening’s opening.

One such when it occurred to him seemed like such a perfect avenue for the Penguin to branch out into that he wondered the man hadn’t considered it himself already. He was actually hesitant about proposing it in case it turned out Oswald _had_ thought of it and dismissed it for some reason that would seem equally obvious once explained.

He was relieved to find however that Oswald was positively delighted with his suggestion. In fact he set about instigating it immediately and it was only a couple of days after that Edward found himself cajoled into testing the newly arranged service.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Oswald asked with a tone of anxiety as he stood beside Edward who was looking over the newly erected counter across from the main bar area.

Edward continued to survey the décor before giving a response. In truth it was far more elegant than he’d envisaged. Of course all the examples he’d seen previously were common store run versions, not something custom made like this. But there was no doubting an ice cream parlor fit exquisitely into the theme of the Iceberg Lounge.

“Its perfect,” he replied turning to see the happy smile cross Penguin’s face.

“We still have to test it out.”

“With pleasure.”

Edward advanced on the ice themed serving bar and slid himself onto one of the high stools, casting his eager gaze over the offerings. While Penguin had insisted you needed to have the basic flavours of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate, Edward had been adamant about the necessity of incorporating unique flavours to distinguish his brand from everyone else’s. Hence there were such oddities as Rich Tea alongside Lobster. The board up on the wall offered a range of combinations as arbitrarily named sundaes.

After surveying his options Ed made his choice and happily delved into his green, blue and cream swirl. Alongside him Oswald was still dithering. His gaze kept flickering from the attractive display down to the tubs of product and back up.

“I can’t decide,” he complained petulantly before looking to Edward’s sundae. “What did you choose?”

Edward couldn’t help but be a bit endeared at the indecision of the crime lord. Without answering he extended a spoonful of his ice cream across for his friend to try. Oswald blinked in surprise at the gesture, and Ed thought perhaps he’d broken some unspoken rule, before he leant forward to taste it.

“Hhhmm. That’s very nice.” Penguin turned to his server. “I’ll have the same,” he declared.

As Oswald waited for his sundae, Edward returned his focus to his own.

“Ice creams are often used as a metaphor for life and love,” he commented. “Some people say life is like vanilla ice cream and its personal choice what toppings you want to add. Or else that different flavours represent different attractors or combinations of inclinations.”

“By that token you have an open mind.”

“And you are undecided,” Ed countered with a grin. “Or perhaps conservative would be a better word.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t limit your options.”

“My options are limited for me,” Oswald pointed out with more than a touch of bitterness, scooping a large spoonful of the pistachio ice cream out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have classical good looks.”

“Exactly.” Ed waved his spoon for emphasis. “No sense in rebuffing any of the suitors that do have the wit to see your worth.”

Oswald studied him with open curiosity.

“You really don’t have an issue with being seen to be in a relationship that is…” he hesitated, unsure how to phrase it correctly. “Not considered normal?”

“Not at all,” Edward answered breezily. “I used to be so concerned with proper propriety and living by society’s rules. Now though I can see them for the flimsy constructs they are. Designed to pen in the dull mindless sheep unable to think for themselves. No. If I find a man attractive why shouldn’t I say so just as I would for a woman?”

He cast his challenging glance onto Oswald who was looking at him almost open mouthed. Riddler smirked at the impact he’d had.

“For example,” he continued leaning nearer to spoon some more ice cream onto his spoon from Oswald’s sundae. “You’re looking very dapper today Oswald.”

Penguin snapped his mouth shut and frowned, doing his best to hide his flustered reaction and simultaneously pulling his desert from Edward’s reach.

“Oh don’t speak such rot,” he muttered.

Edward arched an eyebrow at him and Penguin drew himself together, determined to meet the rogue head on.

“I always look dapper,” he declared.

Edward laughed, delighted with the answer and silently resolving to look out for a suitably desirable match for his close friend. He deserved to be appreciated after all.


	22. Still We Went Coupled And Inseparable

After having spent so long imprisoned, predominantly at Arkham and but even at the Iceberg Lounge, Edward was more than happy to accept Oswald’s invitation to visit the city’s museum with him. Penguin was apparently keen to attend the launch of a new display of Peter Paul Rubens paintings. Despite having practically no knowledge of art, Edward was always open to learning and was easily caught up in Oswald’s enthusiasm.

“I must admit to having a great partiality for his work,” Oswald commented almost bashfully as they entered the display room. “If I had the space, there is not a painting of his I would not choose to hang upon my wall.”

“Is there any one in particular you’d prize?” Edward asked, his gaze already assessing the security measures in place. Not that he was actually considering stealing one for Oswald. But… if Penguin decided to make a return visit then it wouldn’t hurt if he was able to offer some advice.

“Oh it would be too hard to choose!” Oswald’s gaze too was scanning about the room but with far more interest in the artwork itself. “Although I did hear tell that the museum would be displaying some of the portraits of the Roman Emperors. It had been intended to be a series of twelve – a common theme for artists of the time – but alas it was never completed.”

Edward’s gaze returned to his companion.

“You have a fondness for Roman history?”

Beside him Oswald shrugged disingenuously.

“Surely everyone has some affinity for the glory of that age?”

“You do remind me of a modern Augustus in some ways.” Ed couldn’t help but smile at his analogy. “The way you manoeuvred yourself into a position of power, well able to fight when necessary but infinitely preferring to rely on your skill as negotiator and manipulator.”

A pink tint lit Penguin’s cheeks but he waved Edward’s comparison away.

“You forget that Augustus ruled over a time of peace within his empire. He did not have to deal with the machinations of rodent-like adversary.”

“He dealt with his rival Anthony though,” Edward persisted. “And came out triumphant.”

Oswald had turned to look up at Edward as they talked and both were so engrossed they did not notice their company until it interrupted them.

“Gentlemen.”

Riddler and Penguin both looked round to see Bruce Wayne standing at their side. Apparently their lingering as they talked had drawn his notice.

“I hope you’re not here to rob the place.” He offered them a good natured smile which Oswald tensely returned.

“I can assure you we are merely here, like everyone else, to indulge in a cultural evening amidst good company.”

“Sorry.” Bruce didn’t sound terribly sorry. “But you have to admit it _is_ kind of worrying to see _two_ well known criminals walking in.”

“If we wanted to rob the place,” Ed snapped, “I can assure you that you wouldn’t _see_ us walk in.”

“Mister Nygma has officially completed his rehabilitation from Arkham. I myself am free from Blackgate and living a respectable life now. It is slander to suggest we are here under false pretences without good cause, sir.”

“And what good cause exactly has brought you out together?” Wayne tucked his hands into his pockets, clearly not ready to back off just yet. Or too stupid to recognise he was antagonising the wrong men.

“Really Wayne,” Oswald admonished. “Is it beyond your comprehension that two men might choose to attend such an event together?”

That caused Wayne to blink and he visibly reconsidered the situation.

“You’re here on a date?”

Edward didn’t reply but grinned at the sudden change in perspective Oswald had managed to work on their accuser without actually admitting anything. Bruce clearly took his smile as an affirmation though.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, now sounding genuine and stepping aside to stop blocking their path. “I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“We intend to,” Edward replied, hooking his arm into Oswald’s and leading him towards the first of the paintings.

He kept his arm comfortably tucked around Oswald’s as the other man began talking to him enthusiastically about what each painting represented and the skill it demonstrated on the part of Rubens. Truthfully Ed wasn’t that interested in the brush style or most of the subject matter. He was however keenly aware of the attention cast their way by numerous other attendees from high society.

He felt a bubbling pride at the deception they were so easily pulling off. No-one dared comment upon them now for fear of being branded homophobic which allowed them to browse in peace and scope out the building for weaknesses in its defences. It occurred to him that perhaps this was a method they should utilise again.

His eye suddenly caught sight of Veronica Vreeland who was staring at them from across the room. He primly turned his head back to look at whatever Oswald was talking about now and instinctively shifted closer to him.

“I like this one,” he commented unthinkingly as he fabricated an excuse for his leaning nearer.

Oswald halted mid-sentence to glance at him.

“This one? Really?”

Edward finally focused on what it was he’d just advocated for and he felt himself blushing. The painting appeared to depict a naked man, unashamedly displaying his folds of flesh, with wine being poured for him. He wasn’t about to admit any error however.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “Its… indulgent. A man revelling in his victory. Confident and proud.”

Oswald laughed softly.

“Not a man but a god,” he corrected. “Bacchus – or Dionysius – a highly respected deity.”

“Like you then,” Ed tried to tease in order to distract from his own flustered state.

“I thought I was akin to Caesar Augustus?” Oswald arched an eyebrow. “Have I been promoted to the pantheon?”

“It would be fitting. Augustus too was deified.” Edward found his composure returning as their talk switched back to history.

“Well who am I to deny destiny?” Oswald cast his own gaze back onto the painting of the Bacchanalia. “This would be my choice then.”

“Hhmm?” Edward flashed a quick glance back at the provocative artwork, wondering what Oswald was referring to now.

“You asked earlier which piece I would choose if I could have one.” He looked back up at Edward. “I would choose this one.”

Edward couldn’t deny to himself the gratification he felt that Oswald would base his decision on his own preferences. Although, he supposed when you were in a quandary, taking a friend’s advice really was a sensible way to resolve a question.

He bent down to whisper again in Penguin’s ear.

“Well, if it _were_ to go missing, I promise I won’t repeat that.”

They shared a grin as he stood upright again.

“Shall we continue our tour?” Ed prompted. “It wouldn’t do to stand too long in front of one painting. Just in case questions were to be asked later.”

“With pleasure my dear Riddler. With pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see some cool artwork of the boys on their date check out this piece by geniusbeehive:
> 
> https://geniusbeehive.tumblr.com/post/187975511751/museum-dates-are-my-weakness-bonus-if-theyre


	23. Lend Me A Heart Replete With Thankfulness

Edward hadn’t realised that he’d learnt to distinguish the unique sound of Penguin’s chauffeur driven car until his ears pricked up at its approach. It wasn’t until he actually saw the other man getting out that he allowed the grin to spread across his face though.

Penguin however didn’t look half so happy to see him.

“Riddler. Are _you_ the reason my club had to be closed for ‘essential renovation’? The contractors wouldn’t even let **me** in! Health and safety concerns,” he added in a grumbling mutter which Ed only heard due to his decreasing distance.

“I admit that was down to me,” he confessed, “but I think you’ll be pleased-”

“Pleased?” Oswald broke in, shoving the point of his umbrella at Ed for emphasis. “You disappear for over a week… with no word or explanation… then turn up telling me you’re the reason I lost valuable income and expect me to be _pleased_? I thought you were dead!”

That gave Riddler pause. In truth he hadn’t considered exactly how his recent behaviour might have looked from Oswald’s point of view. He had been totally focused on preparing this surprise for him.

“I’m unlikely to have been a target for anybody,” he suggested contritely.

The rationalisation didn’t have the hoped for effect and Oswald continued to glare at him.

“Except to any rival crime boss who might want to take a stab at me. I expected a ransom every moment the first couple of days you disappeared.”

Edward couldn’t help himself and had to ask.

“Only the first couple of days?”

Oswald finally averted his eyes.

“Kidnap victims generally aren’t held for ransom too long. If you don’t hear in 48 hours chances are you’ll just be presented with the body back.”

“Well, you must have realised then that I wasn’t kidnapped,” Ed tried to buoy him back up. To his disappointment, Oswald’s shoulder’s only slumped further.

“Yes. Then I had to conclude you’d simply left.” Impossibly his posture fell further. “Grown bored. Given up on anything we had. Flown the coup without a word or explanation.”

“Oswald… no. You can’t have really thought that?” A shrug was his only response. “I’d never just abandon you without saying something first. Not after everything you’ve done for me. In fact…” His smile returned as he found his segue back to his surprise. “I was getting something to help begin paying you back.”

“Paying me back? Ed… I haven’t asked for any further payment than your continued company.”

“I know but I wanted to do something.”

It was Ed’s turn to shrug now. He didn’t really understand how Penguin was so willing to wait to receive a return on his investment. Not even knowing if Riddler would make a success worth all the time and funds Oswald had put in on his behalf. Which is why he’d been so enthusiastic about this plan to start generating extra revenue for the Iceberg Lounge.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Ed suggested as he eagerly moved to open the doors to the club.

“Really?” Ed shot him a glare and he huffed in compliance as he obeyed. “Now I can’t see where I’m going,” he pointed out.

“Its fine.” Ed rejoined him. “I’ll guide you.”

So saying he grasped hold of the hand not still clutching the umbrella and gave a light tug. Penguin let out a startled gasp before fastening his hand tighter and following obediently.

Edward didn’t try to restrain his grin as he led his friend into the main area of the Lounge. He could see that the men he’d hired had done their work well. Everything was going perfectly now they’d resolved the unexpected misunderstanding.

“Eddie,” Oswald whined impatiently. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

Edward took one final glance around to make sure everything was exactly as he’d planned before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes.”

He felt it the moment Oswald saw what he’d done because the man’s grip on his hand tightened still further.

“Eddie,” he breathed reverently. “Its… wonderful.”

A surge of satisfaction warmed Riddler, which was just as well because there was a wave of cold air permeating out from the new central feature.

It was a pool surrounding a realistic fake iceberg but the real attraction were the birds busy exploring the territory. Six penguins were either waddling their way along the low icy paths or swimming through the temperature controlled waters.

Oswald detached his hand so he could move forward for a closer view, pressing himself to the railing separating the patrons area from the animal enclosure. Edward followed alongside.

“Where did you get them?”

“I happened to hear about them when I picked up a newsletter from my old home town. The local zoo there were getting rid of them because they weren’t ‘fulfilling their natural obligations’,” he traced the quotation marks in the air before them.

“What does that mean? Fulfilling their natural obligations?”

“The zoo wanted breeding pairs. These particular birds declined to pair up with the right genders to produce offspring.”

It took Oswald a few seconds to decode that.

“They’re gay? I didn’t know animals could have sexual orientations.”

Edward shrugged in lieu of admitting he hadn’t known it either a few weeks ago.

“Apparently so,” he said instead. “While that might not be to the zoo’s advantage, I thought it might be an added incentive for people to come here and see the birds?”

He couldn’t help but end on a slightly questioning note. He still had trouble understanding what the public might find appealing but he felt sure it must be unique details such as this.

“Its perfect,” Penguin agreed. “And anyone who might have a problem with that would be refused entry anyway.” He turned to look up at Ed with shining eyes. “Thank you.”

The gaze was too emotional for Edward to hold and he turned his gaze swiftly back onto the Lounge’s new pets.

“I’m simply balancing our ledger of favours.” He coughed awkwardly. “I took the liberty of hiring a worker to take care of them. One of their old keepers who objected the grounds on which the zoo were discarding them. I hope it at least makes up for the disappointment of that deal that fell through with Scarface.”

Oswald turned his own gaze back to the birds with an amused laugh.

“Rescuing live birds from discriminatory treatment, which will coincidently raise the profile of my club, versus buying a stuffed extinct species from a crook who would try and lord it over me,” he summarised. “Oh, I think this more than makes up for it. Now.” He smiled as he leant over the railings. “Tell me everything you know about them. Preferably starting with their names and how I’m supposed to tell them apart.”


	24. Its Not Enough To Speak, But To Speak True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of "Riddler's Reform" unfold.

It was a cowardly double-cross, though whether for publicity or cash from some unnamed enemy Ed wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the GCPD had swooped in on his exit from the Iceberg Lounge and taken him back to Arkham for “theft of zoological animals”. To add insult to injury they had also taken Oswald into custody under suspicion of aiding and abetting.

They would never be able to prove it, he was confident of that. For a start Oswald had had nothing to do with the acquisition of the birds. His alibi would be water tight. And Edward had left quite a visible trail for his purchase, something utterly unthinkable for a genius like him if he were attempting to steal them.

The only silver lining was the fact that the keeper he had hired was advocating leaving the birds where they were and the zoo apparently wasn’t intent on contesting that. It was only a pity the man could not witness to the transaction being above board.

Edward himself did that though. He swore to the police taking him in. He crossed his heart to the doctors that he was innocent. And he promised a solemn oath to the board gathered to assess his case. The result was something of a pyrrhic victory. They allowed that he showed no sign of slipping back into his old ways and agreed bail for him. However this seemed to have the effect of switching everyone’s focus onto Oswald as the instigator of the crime.

He had to agree that it would on the surface appear the more likely scenario. Penguin did usually commit bird themed thefts after all, and there was little more he could do to help in this situation, having already provided the police with all the evidence they should need to prove that the penguins were not in fact stolen. All he could do now was wait for the slow witted fools to process that reality.

Still he found himself somewhat at a loss without Oswald around. He had become accustomed to spending time with him and didn’t really have any other friends to fall back upon. The idea of visiting him while he awaited trial crossed his mind but he had to dismiss it as too probable in influencing the jury against him.

So it seemed particularly fortuitous when Charles Baxter sought him out with a proposition.

The man was president of Wacko Toys and wanted to utilise Riddler’s persona to sell more products. It was ideal. Exactly the sort of way into the business world that Oswald had always spoken of. Step in at some lower level where he was in a good position to watch the wheels of management turn before initiating something that would warrant an opportunity to step up.

From a personal point of view it also offered Riddler the perfect chance to test his skill against Batman once again. He had learnt from past mistakes and knew now to make his riddles much more subtle. Hiding them in plain sight, right under the vigilante’s nose. It was almost too easy.

Actually it was too easy.

The evening party had been going perfectly to plan. C.B. had invited only the very fashionable to attend and every one of them was fawning over the latest addition to their midst. It was child’s play to bamboozle them with the solving of his puzzles. Admittedly, he had felt unexpectedly uncomfortable when the beautiful women had decided to flirt with him. It was something he’d often daydreamed about but the reality had made him feel strangely guilty. It wasn’t until later he realised that was probably a residual memory of Penguin’s treatment at the hands of socialite Veronica Vreeland.

He didn’t have long to worry about it at the time since Batman chose that moment to lure him from the crowd with a false phone call. It was the ideal opportunity to humiliate the Bat in front of everyone and Edward took it gleefully. His two way radio gadgets allowed him to broadcast his aggressor’s paranoia for everyone to hear – making a welcome change from everyone mocking him for _his_ foibles.

Yet the vigilante couldn’t resist one parting shot before his dramatic exit.

“You and I both know I’m going to put you away because you can’t help yourself. You can’t stop.”

The rest of the party was a blur of frustration and Edward was glad when it was finally over. His mood only sank further though when he switched on the news to see that the jury had convicted Oswald. Locking him away for a crime he didn’t even commit. What chance did any of them have really? In this society that would always be steeped against them. The Batman had made it perfectly clear time and time again that he would always be waiting for them to slip up. Any mistake and they’d be locked away, no matter how justified it may or might not be.

There was really only one logical solution to the problem. He had to eliminate the Bat once and for all. Then they would all stand a chance at a free life. It was really only the bullying nature of the Batman which kept him in the game anyway. He had long since learnt that the only way to make them leave you alone was to prove superiority over them. If he could best the Bat then he’d finally be free of the restrictions the man imposed.

He knew Penguin would thank him for the service too. As would Isley, and Jervis, and Scarecrow, and pretty much all the rogues. The possible exception being Joker but then again maybe even he would settle down without the Batman antagonising him. Harley would certainly appreciate the chance to try and set up home properly with her Mister J. Not that Ed was entirely sure they were right for each other but she didn’t seem inclined to stop trying so he might as well help.

He allowed part of his mind to drift over the possibilities even as he began setting up the final trap for his adversary. Without the Bat constantly on their case, everything would be easier. Oswald could operate without looking over his shoulder all the time. Ed could practise his skills in peace, without being chastised for every inconvenience he might put brainless morons to. Neither would suffer the indignity of being hogtied and left dangling outside the GCPD.

They could lead respectable lives receiving the admiration they both deserved without getting maligned by a self-righteous, self-appointed dictator of proper behaviour. It really would be a public service.


	25. Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me?

Being back in Arkham felt so much worse this time around. To begin with this was because Batman had locked him away without even having the common decency to explain how he had escaped the Riddler’s trap. To a mind like Ed’s, the not knowing was an insurmountable roadblock to rational thinking. His brain tired itself out looking for loopholes and weaknesses the Batman could have exploited, without finding any.

He passed out eventually, hoarse from screaming for answers, before awakening the next morning to begin the merry-go-round again.

Unwilling to be subject to his ranting, and disturbing the other inmates for a second time, the duty doctor prescribed strong sedatives that the guards were only too happy to administer. It allowed everyone else to continue their daily routine but did nothing to help Riddler process his compulsion to solve the conundrum. It also prevented him from realising the time that was passing.

It wasn’t until he’d been allowed to skip a dosage so he could interact with his regular doctor that his thoughts grew somewhat lucid once again. Dr. Leland helped him put aside the obsessive fixation, not giving up on the problem but relegating it for attention at a more opportune time when he had a better chance to solve it.

This allowed his mind to move onto other concerns and the familiar refrain within Arkham of cursing out the Batman for his interference became his focus. Everyone he interacted with had similar complaints to air on this particular score. How their lives would be better if only he had left well enough alone. Or, in several cases, just done what was expected of him and died.

However not many of them had ever had his experience of being literally on the cusp of going straight, of actually giving up a life of crime entirely, when the Batman interrupted. The irony of that situation was lost on most other rogues although Jervis appreciated it with a sympathetic shake of the head. To be thwarted in giving up crime, by the preeminent crime fighter of Gotham, was such a ridiculous situation it wouldn’t be believed if it were presented as a script.

Yet in Gotham it was almost a common occurrence. True, in Jervis’ case he had been too over active in robbing the city’s socialites to avoid some form of retaliation but Edward had targeted no-one but the Batman. He supposed the owners of Newman Import & Export company might see it differently but really they were only a facet of his plan to rid the city of Batman

And Oswald had legitimately tried to go straight himself before being forced back into crime by the social elite and had Batman done anything to help him then? No, he had accused Penguin of crimes before any were committed and been more than happy to put him away again rather than the true crooks. Edward had to wonder if the Batman wasn’t secretly, or at least subconsciously, avoiding doing anything that would properly clear up Gotham for fear of making himself obsolete.

It would make a twisted sort of sense. And could a man who nightly dressed as a bat and swung around the city beating people up be accused of truly having any common sense? If a psychiatrist ever got him on their couch Edward would not be at all surprised to hear that the man feared being made obsolete by his enemies genuinely reforming. He would have to mention that theory to Jonathan when he next saw him.

Which reminded him of his current isolation.

Something about this visit to Arkham felt different to him although he had not as yet given over his mind to it. Initially he’d been distracted by medication and residual frustration from his clash with Batman but now it had been a few days and the routine was getting established around him. It felt familiar but not quite exactly the same.

Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he was incarcerated here while Oswald had been locked away in Stonegate. The realisation that he would not be seeing him for an unknown length of time niggled at his consciousness causing him to worry. He knew the Penguin had nothing to fear from being imprisoned – although such common courtesies as his monocle were denied him – yet he couldn’t help but speculate upon possible problems.

The only reason he could muster for this concern was the vague feeling he should have been more careful in protecting him. Not that he’d actually done anything illegal – the birds were legally traded – but he might have anticipated the deceit of the employees. It seemed obvious in hindsight that they were publishing the ‘theft’ in order to draw new visitors in. All Edward could comfort himself with was the fact that such notoriety wouldn’t last them long.

Well, that and the fact Oswald should have no trouble extricating himself promptly. Stonegate wasn’t Blackgate after all and the verdict hadn’t been swift so there was clearly some hesitation on the part of those who’d put him away. Convincing his parole board that he was only an accessory after the fact should be child’s play. He was hopeful too that the birds’ increased standard of living should encourage the committee to look favourably upon his request for early release.

He had little doubt that as soon as Oswald was free again then he would pick up their regular visits.

Although… would Oswald blame him for dragging him into this debacle? Would he begin to doubt even that Ed had bought the birds fair and square? Oswald had firmly declared so at his trial but naturally he would. To do otherwise would seem to be incriminating himself as well.

Ed cursed that his brilliant intelligence and gift for misdirection actually counted against Oswald in this case. For all Ed had provided receipts and bills of sale for the birds, the prosecution had simply claimed them as forgeries from the mind of the Riddler. The fact that the zoo had only provided cheap Xerox copies of the transaction made it look even more like an easy forgery for the Penguin.

In fact, when he thought about it, the idea really was quite insulting. If he was going to present anyone, and especially Oswald, with faked documents then he would make them appear a good deal better than the substandard sheets the zoo had provided.

Still, there was nothing he could do about that now. And even less he could do for Oswald from here. All he could presently do was settle back into the routine and present a docile façade to those watching him while he assessed why everything felt slightly tenser around him.


	26. Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire

By this stage Edward had to conclude Oswald was angry at him. It was the only logical explanation for his silence. The thought was weighing on his mind like the withdrawal symptoms of a particularly effective drug. Not that he believed he was in any way at fault – because he had been so careful about keeping everything above board for the sake of the Iceberg Lounge’s reputation – but the fact of the matter was that Oswald wouldn’t be in this situation if Ed had done nothing.

Maybe he’d have felt the burden of accountability less if things at Arkham had been normal however it had quickly become apparent that they were anything but. It seemed the city officials were finally cracking down on the asylum’s revolving door policy. From a logistical point of view, Riddler could commend them. From a personal point of view it was an affront. If they were going to toughen up security then they might at least make sure the correct people were being held first.

The new head of security had instigated strict regulations about who could communicate with whom, as well as where everyone was permitted to be and when, and there were harsh punishments for disobedience. Ed had already found himself subject to more electric shocks than should be conscionable merely for questioning the guards. He wasn’t even asking anything beyond their understanding, initially only wanting to make sure that they weren’t holding onto any letters for him.

The problem was, of course, that Riddler couldn’t always help himself from speaking his mind – especially when anxious or faced with wilful ignorance and the type of sheep mentality which did seem to be the criteria for a lot of the security people at Arkham – and this drew him the attention of their new dictator, Lyle Bolton.

At first the man’s comments were merely derogatory and simply so much water off a duck’s back to Edward. He had been called many things in his time and had ceased paying attention to the majority of it. But then Bolton had hit upon a word Nygma couldn’t ignore.

“Cheater.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A self-satisfied smile settled on Bolton’s face.

“I know all about you Mister Nygma. Think you’re so much smarter than the rest of us don’t you? What’s your alias again? Oh, yeah. _Riddler_.” He laughed derisively.

Edward found himself crossing his arms in a defensive posture, despite the fact he was secure in his cell and Bolton couldn’t reach him. For now.

Or physically at least.

“I _am_ smarter than you all.” He turned his face away dismissively hoping to end the conversation there.

Bolton however had sensed weakness and wasn’t about to back off so soon.

“No you’re not,” he persisted. “You _cheated_.”

“I did not!”

Edward could have cursed his instinctive reaction which drew his attention firmly back onto his tormentor. He knew the man was just trying to get a rise. Knew he should ignore it. But…

“Yes you did. You lost against your old boss didn’t you? So you changed the rules. Didn’t play him on a fair playing field anymore. That’s cheating.”

“No. Its… That’s not… I challenged him to a new game!”

“Which you still couldn’t win.” Bolton grinned at him. “He got away didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ed conceded reluctantly. “But I could still beat him anytime I want now. I got better at playing his game.”

“Aha!” Bolton crowed. “So you admit you couldn’t win before! You were too dumb.”

“I wasn’t dumb! I was… It was an area I wasn’t experienced in. I’ve learnt since.”

“From your birdie boyfriend,” Bolton snorted disdainfully. “Who doesn’t even want to know you now you’re in here. Because only stupid people get caught Nygma. Did he even really see anything in you anyway? Maybe you were just a pet he was training to do tricks. I don’t think he could have taught you anything really. You’re too thick.”

The sound of his baton striking suddenly against the bars made Edward jump and Bolton laughed to himself as he left the shaken criminal to his thoughts.

Did Oswald only see him as a diverting pastime? A sounding board for his own ideas and goals. Was that why Edward hadn’t heard from him? Not because Oswald was angry but because he was simply bored? And if he was just a hobby for the patriarchal crime lord, wouldn’t the moment he started being a liability be the logical moment to abandon him?

Riddler had no chance to deal with these intrusive thoughts properly as Bolton made sure to keep up a steady stream of such comments whenever their paths happened to cross. Reminding him of how he’d been countered by Batman at his own games time and time again. Of how, of all the rogues under Bolton’s watchful eye, he was least likely to face his opponents man-to-man. How his puzzles really weren’t that tricky when properly looked at. Weren’t they even marketed as children’s toys? Had he ever really made something to truly challenge anyone?

The consistent barrage of negativity, combined with growing feelings of abandonment by the one person he’d come to trust implicitly, had its inevitable effect and Edward grew quieter and placid. Accepting of his fate.

It didn’t however go unnoticed by his doctor at their weekly session.

“Edward, while I’m pleased to see the decrease in your megalomania tendencies, I am concerned that your medication might be pushing you too far the other way. Would you agree to an adjustment of the dosage?”

Dr Leland received only a shrug in response and she noted down a tentative trial for a reduced dose.

“I have to ask,” she hesitated briefly, almost expecting the usual challenge to her choice of language, before ploughing on. “How are you finding the new regulations implemented? Are they helpful, do you think?”

Another shrug met this statement making her frown in concern. Riddler rarely resisted an invitation to give his views. She bit her lip in consideration and pondered her next move. As head of security, Bolton was in complete control of the inmates activities within the asylum. However, that didn’t give him any jurisdiction over treatment of patients.

She reached into the drawer beside her and drew out an envelope.

“Mister Bolton has been of the opinion that contact with external stimulae would unnecessarily excite the patients,” she began and noticed a gleam of interest in Ed’s gaze. “However I feel if patients such as yourself are going to be habituated to life outside then you need some familiar contacts.”

She slid the letter across and Ed’s eyes widened on recognising the handwriting.

“Oswald,” he breathed.

“I’m afraid Mister Bolton examined it and edited certain parts out. Why if he didn’t want us to give them to you I don’t know. I think he’s a little paranoid himself.”

Edward tuned her out completely the moment he had the letter in his hands and was able to scan across the familiar script.

███████_ Edward,_  
_I_ ██ ██ █████ ██ _hear you are once again a resident of that_ ████████ _place. Rest assured_ ████ █ ██ ████ ██ ████ █ █████ ████████ ████ ████████ ███████. _I feel for you, alone in there with no-one_ ██ █████████ ████ █████████ ████. _At least I have my birds with me to talk to and lend companionship. I wish _██████ ██ ███ ████ █████████ ████ █ ███ █████ ███ ███████████ ██ ████ _you. _ ██ _would have been a memory_ ██ ████ ██ ████. _Alas, I did not_ ███ ██ ████ ████ ██ ███ ████ ████ ████ ██ ███ ████ ██ ███████ █████.  
███████ ████████,  
████ _Oswald_

Despite its highly edited nature, intended no doubt to foster his impression Oswald didn’t care, the sheer comfort of knowing Oswald still thought of him brought a smile to Ed’s lips.

“Thank you Doctor,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the unedited version of the letter:  
Dearest Edward,  
I am so sorry to hear you are once again a resident of that dreadful place. Rest assured once I am free of here I shall expedite your earliest release. I feel for you, alone in there with no-one to challenge your brilliant mind. At least I have my birds to talk to and lend companionship. I wish before we had been separated that I had taken the opportunity to kiss you. It would have been a memory to keep me warm. Alas, I did not but we will make up for lost time when we are both at liberty again.  
Fondest thoughts,  
Your Oswald


	27. But If The While I Think On Thee

_Edward,_   
_I hope you will forgive the informality of my last missive. Frustration at the circumstances of our separation perhaps made me incautious. I did not intend to cause you any discomfort. Although I confess that I do think fondly of what we might do together when we are both free, rest assured at present I will be quite contented simply to hear all is well with you._   
_Oswald_

Nygma hummed softly to himself as he lay on his bunk reading through the letter again. He’d memorised it the instant he first read it of course but it was a helpful focus point as he contemplated his reply.

It had proved impossible to respond to Oswald’s previous letter, which was why of course his friend was anxious about having unwittingly upset him. The fact of the matter was that until Lyle Bolton was removed as head of security, the inmates simply weren’t allowed to interact with anyone beside their doctor.

In truth, Edward didn’t know the entirety of what had happened to their vindictive head of security. It seemed as if one day he was stalking the corridors, tormenting them for being scum of the earth, and the next he was locked away alongside them and Jon was speaking in code to him about music torture. It was something he’d have to investigate further later but for now his focus was on his communication with Oswald.

He wondered if he should mention the fact that his last letter had been severely edited so most of the meaning was lost and decided against it. From the tone of this missive it seemed the Penguin regretted the impulsiveness of what he’d written. Ed could explain he’d never read it, which would to a degree reassure him, or he could let the subject drop and allow Oswald to assume whatever he’d said was not affecting him in the slightest. That seemed sensible for maintaining their ease of communication. He had no wish for either Oswald to think he had to exercise caution or indeed for himself to realise he might actually be bothered by anything the man said in the spur of the moment. He hoped their friendship was beyond that but it didn’t do to chance it.

The obvious topic of conversation would be the emergence of Lock-Up but Ed was hesitant about broaching that topic. Although the man was no longer in a position to do them any harm – in fact Scarecrow was currently enjoying himself tormenting him with his failure – the whole experience had alerted Riddler to the fact that their mail could be intercepted. Therefore talking about any of their games in the asylum probably wasn’t wise.

Added to which he didn’t feel like explaining the pressure points the guard had found in his own mental balance.

Likewise, for similar obvious reasons, it would not do to talk about plans he had in place for an escape. Or any other plans of his fellow inmates. Or most of his future plans for when he did indeed have his freedom again.

He swung himself upright and carefully smoothed out the sheet of paper for his reply. Logically then, if he couldn’t talk about what his plans were, then he could perhaps talk about what his plans _weren’t._

_Oswald,_   
_I was happy to receive both your letters and can only apologise for the long wait for a reply. I too have been my considering future plans and have come to the conclusion that business might not be the avenue for me. The rules of that particular game are too restricting for my taste. I need more diverse challenges. Which isn’t to say I am not still grateful for everything I learnt from you. And it certainly does not mean I have any wish to curtail our friendship. In fact, it turns out your companionship is the most worthwhile gain I have made since taking up the mantle of Riddler._

He paused and considered that. While undoubtedly true, he wondered if it was too forward to put it so bluntly. However, now he had it down on paper, he was loath to retract it. It felt akin to stealing something from his friend and he had no wish to do that.

He inhaled slowly and let himself refocus on the rest of the blank paper as he exhaled. He brought back to his mind’s eye the first of Oswald’s letters and recalled the one piece of information he had been allowed.

_I am glad you have birds to keep you company. Perhaps they would be a swifter and more secure way of conveying messages? Although I confess to knowing little about the training of birds for such things, if anyone can manage it, surely it would be you. Perhaps it’s even something you have done already. I think I’d enjoy learning more about various birds and their habits._

His pen halted and he wondered why that sentence sounded subtly wrong. Glancing over it he couldn’t see any grammatical errors. Still his hand lingered awkwardly.

“Lights out time!”

He cursed under his breath at the guard’s yell and quickly scribbled his name at the bottom of the page before being plunged into momentary darkness. Seconds later the softer night lighting illuminated the shapes around him and he tucked the writing implements out of the way before lying down again.

It was never wholly quiet in Arkham but all the sounds were familiar enough by now to be comforting and he quickly settled. Yet his mind continued to linger on Oswald in Stonegate with his birds. For some unfathomable reason he found himself curious about how he interacted with them.

Did they sing for him? Or did they allow him to pet them? Oswald enjoyed fine textures, Ed had noticed, and he hypothesised whether soft feathers brought him comfort in his bleak prison cell. It was easy to believe the Penguin had them trained in some manner. While he was at heart fond of all birds, regardless of their usefulness to him, any which he took special interest in generally gained some secondary value.

As he started to drift into slumber his mind recollected the myth of Icarus and he imagined himself escaping Arkham in a similar fashion. Even meeting Oswald similarly attired fleeing from Stonegate. As his mind sank into unconsciousness though, and his dream self-flew higher away from the walls of this place, he heard the echo of Oswald’s voice cautioning him to stay close to him lest he be burned by the sun.


	28. The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush

It felt strange for Edward to be at liberty without Oswald. The only times it had happened before had been with the business over the zoo theft and the brief period before his first incarceration when Oswald had been unfairly judged for the crimes of the duplicitous social elite. Thinking about it, his imprisonment now was similarly unjust and a sign of the clear bias to which the whole judicial system viewed those with blemishes in their history. Was it therefore any wonder Penguin didn’t try very hard to follow the strict legal rules when he would not be judged fairly even if he did?

Remembering Oswald’s past experience, and especially how he’d cited his lonely reception home as the reason he fell easy prey to Miss Vreeland, Edward decided to make sure history did not have a chance to repeat itself. He would personally guarantee that Oswald received an appropriate welcome from his peers and the first part of this plan actually proved far less of a problem than he had anticipated.

It seemed obvious that a surprise greeting for Oswald should be set up in the Iceberg Lounge. He could easily be prompted to visit it immediately upon his release without suspicion and the reputation of the club would make it safe for their brethren of career criminals. The only alternative would be to gather them in Oswald’s home and that might be viewed less as a friendly party and more similar to an invasion.

Also, while Edward knew he could circumnavigate Oswald’s home security to facilitate that, he also knew such an undertaking would damage the trusting relationship they had managed to establish. Far better if he could work with the Penguin’s staff to organise things. And to his surprise, they all seemed almost eager to assist him.

Initially he assumed this was simply due to their own fondness for their employer, something he had witnessed first-hand many times now. Then one of the bar staff let slip that Mister Penguin had previously told them all to be as helpful and courteous to Riddler as a particularly valued customer. The terminology confused Ed briefly, since he didn’t recall ever having paid for anything in the Lounge, but then realised the focus was on ‘valued’. He couldn’t help but smile and further his efforts to make this party special.

Leaving the decorations and culinary preparations in the far more capable hands of the bar staff, Edward focused his skills on the next problem: guests.

While he knew Oswald was a social butterfly, and enjoyed the challenge of charming socialites, that was part of his work habits. He mingled with the rich and inane solely for promotion and publicity. This gathering was supposed to be relaxed and a chance to unwind in likeminded company. All of which meant Edward needed to encourage some of the rogues gallery to attend.

He mentally ran through his list of possibilities, dividing them into categories of ‘available’, ‘persuadable’ and ‘do not approach’. The first category limited him far more than the others but he reassured himself that with the Gotham rogues, a little went a long way. Luckily he knew Harley was currently out and she brought enough fun to any party for three. Finding Harley was simple enough, given the media hype that she drew with her unconventional antics, and she was keen to take part promising too to bring Ivy which was an unexpected bonus on Ed’s expectations for the female contingent.

He decided to approach Ventriloquist next to join them, as Scarface often operated with respectful regard for Penguin, generally negotiating truces over territorial disputes rather than fighting about them. As he expected, Arnold was happy simply to be invited and Scarface condescended to come ‘as a courtesy’.

The Mad Hatter too was an obvious guest candidate but Edward hesitated over asking him. From all their time together in Arkham, Edward knew if he asked Jervis, the man would automatically invite Jonathan. While Edward would deny having any issue with the supposedly intellectual Scarecrow, he would point out that the man was hardly the life and soul of a party.

He decided to forego the risk and as luck would have it, fate placed another opportunity in his path. It seemed fitting that chance should have him almost literally run into Two Face on his way to confirm Penguin’s transport and a flip of the coin confirmed his attendance too.

So it was that Riddler headed a suitable crowd of rogues in the bar of Oswald’s club when the man himself finally appeared. Ed had a brief glimpse of his friend’s downcast face as he pushed the door inward, and he felt a flicker of guilt at not having met him personally, but then Harley launched a cloud of streamers and Oswald froze in shock.

Ed grinned as he saw Oswald take in the people and preparations awaiting his return. Then the shorter man’s gaze landed on him and stuck. Nygma didn’t even attempt to say anything, knowing it would be drowned out by Harley, who was doing a good imitation of a football crowd all by herself, and simply waited while Oswald approached him with a growing smile upon his own face.

The party guests had the consideration to hush themselves as the guest of honour reached their midst and Ed was vaguely aware of them all watching as he faced down Oswald.

“You did this?” Oswald asked, although it was clearly a redundant question.

Edward shrugged dismissively even as his grin turned smug.

“I didn’t want a repeat of that incident from before,” he offered.

“Edward.”

The tense tone drew Riddler’s attention and he focused on Oswald with a degree of concern.

“I…” Oswald broke off and licked his lips before trying again. “I believe I shall make good on my promise now,” he said with difficulty before grabbing Ed by his tie and dragging him down to collide their lips together.

Ed’s thoughts crashed and he froze in panic. He was painfully aware of a renewed hollering from their audience and he suddenly found his mind back in the school corridors, ineffectually hiding frustrated tears from the bullies who seemed to lurk at every turn. Frantically he wrenched himself backwards.

“What was that?!” His eyes darted about, seeing the amusement of their peers and suddenly wondering if Oswald was _trying_ to humiliate him.

Oswald however merely blinked in clear bemusement.

“A kiss?”

“But _why_?” Ed honestly tried to keep his voice down but hysteria appeared to be setting in raising his pitch.

“Because… I said in my letter I’d wanted to do that before we parted and was looking forward to doing so when we were reunited.”

Edward gaped, almost convinced the Mad Hatter had slipped a mind control card on him – creating an alternative reality in retaliation for his lack of an invite – because nothing now made any sense. Then his beleaguered mind managed to flag up the appropriate memory: Oswald’s redacted letter.

“I never read that letter!” he blurted.

Oswald’s face went from confused to hurt in an instant.

“You didn’t read my letters?”

“No, I did, yes, but, that one was…”

His stuttering was interrupted by a braying laugh that made him flinch. With a horrified recollection of their audience he turned to see Scarface rattling with amusement.

“Ha-ha. Looks like you’re getting dumped Penguin!”

Two-Face sniggered even while Arnold tried to shush Mister Scarface.

“Some you win, some you lose,” Harvey commented philosophically.

“And some you string along until it suits you to publically humiliate them,” Ivy snarled, only prevented from stalking towards Edward by Harley’s grip on her arm.

“Me?! What did I do?”

A deep inhalation from Oswald managed to silence everyone and returned all their attention to him.

“Get out.”

He spoke so quietly that for a second, no-one was entirely sure he’d said anything at all. Then he looked up at them with burning eyes and repeated himself.

“GET OUT!”

All the others took their cue but Edward couldn’t help but hesitate. There had clearly been a miscommunication here and he dearly wanted to fix it so they could continue as they had. However Oswald turned his now icy cold gaze onto him.

“Get out.”

With deep reluctance Riddler obeyed, albeit knowing neither he nor Oswald would sleep easy with this gulf now between them.


	29. But The Wise Man Knows Himself To Be A Fool

The door slamming against his foot hurt but Edward didn’t budge. He simply grimaced and held his ground. Ivy was trying her best to push him out but he proved a slippery customer and she had no sooner dislodged one limb than another appeared to take its place.

“You just don’t take hints do you?” she growled.

“I could say the same of you,” he grunted back as he reapplied his shoulder to the door.

He was aware he was pushing his luck significantly here. If Ivy chose to she could dose him with toxins that could be deadly. But he didn’t have any other option. Oswald had disappeared and she was the only one who might know where he was.

“I just want to know if Os is okay. That’s all.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I care about him! Because I…” His voice caught and he swallowed hard. “I love him.”

The flailing battle froze, although the pressure against him didn’t lessen.

“You love him?”

“Yes!”

The door finally gave way and he tumbled into her apartment.

“Well you have a funny way of showing it.”

He looked up from his undignified sprawl intent on making a snappy comeback before quickly thinking better of it. Ivy looked twice as intimidating from this angle as he remembered. He tried an amiable smile instead.

“That’s why I needed to talk to Oswald.” He straightened up and dusted himself off. “You’re looking well by the way. Have you been working out? Sunbathing? New hair dye?”

“It’s a new toxin in my system. Care to try it?”

He raised his hands in surrender.

“Just trying to be polite.”

“Get to the point Nygma. What do you mean, you love him?”

A confused frown crossed Riddler’s brow.

“I thought that sentence was clear enough.”

“Yes.” Ivy rolled her eyes before turning back into the room and dropping into a comfy chair. “Except for the fact the last time you saw him you quite dramatically dumped him in front of everyone. Hardly an act of love.”

Edward carefully closed the door as he mentally weighed the risk of taking a chair opposite her. Deciding against it he instead let out a frustrated huff.

“How could I be dumping him when I didn’t know I was supposedly dating him?”

“How could you not know you were dating?” Ivy countered. “You went on dates to museums and restaurants. He referred to you as his boyfriend. _I_ called you his boyfriend. Hell! Everyone called you two boyfriends!”

“I didn’t know!” Ed cried piteously. “I thought people were just teasing. I never thought that he thought… I never even thought he’d _want_ to.”

Despite his previous anxiety he dropped down into the security of the armchair and hung his head. He presented quite a sorry sight slumped in the seat and Ivy found even her hard heart relenting. She tried not to let that show though.

“But if _you_ wanted it to be true… why did you push him away at his Welcome Home party?”

“Because… he caught me by surprise. I didn’t know what his motive was. I thought… perhaps he was mocking my feelings for him.”

Ivy couldn’t restrain her disbelief.

“Men! How can you be so smart and still so unbelievably dumb?”

For once, Ed let the challenge to his intelligence pass. Not only because he still needed her help but because in this instance he couldn’t quite deny he might deserve it.

“Is he alright?” He cast a nervous glance up at her. “I’ve been watching for him at the Iceberg Lounge but the staff won’t let me in and he’s never shown. I even watched his penthouse for a while but no-one was home.”

“He’s taken a break from Gotham and business for a while.” Ivy focused her attention on her sharp nails. “I booked him into one of my spas for a revitalising vacation.”

She looked up in time to see the expression of horror on Ed’s face and she frowned.

“It’s a real spa, not one of my venus fly traps. I operate a few such businesses to help maintain a healthy bank balance for my fight against plant brutality.”

“Can I visit him?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Look, intentional or not, you broke his heart and pretty much humiliated him in front of his peers. He needs to do this for himself, to rebuild his own self-esteem, and prove to himself he doesn’t need anyone else’s validation. I will not let you burst in on him, even with the most ardent love declarations.”

Ed deflated again but didn’t argue that point. How could he? He had done this damage to himself. He could hardly begrudge Oswald taking the time away to fix himself.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Ivy offered in a softer tone, “you can take his lack of retaliation as a sign of the affection he had for you.”

“Had?” Ed echoed, finally meeting her gaze head on. “Do you think it’s too late then? Have I messed up any chance we had?”

She leant back contemplatively.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But it’s going to take a major gesture on your part to come back from this. Something for everyone to see. A sign of your contrition before you begin to beg for his mercy and forgiveness.”

“A major gesture.” Ed swallowed to try and hide his nerves and attempted another smile. “I’m good at those. Dramatic may as well be my middle name.”

Ivy arched an eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” she drawled.

“So… does that mean you’ll tell me where he is?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “Didn’t you just hear me? Everyone needs to be secure in themselves before attempting a relationship. I don’t want Oswald thinking he’s worthy just because _you_ say so.”

Riddler folded his arms sulkily.

“You sound awfully fond of him yourself.”

He was surprised at her almost warm laughter.

“I _am_ fond of him. He’s like a brother to me. Who do you think helped me set up those spas in the first place? But as a lover? No.” She smirked. “Let’s just say he’s not my type.”

Curiosity would always be Ed’s downfall and he couldn’t help but quiz Ivy following such an intriguing hint.

“And who might your type be? I heard a rumour you used to date Harvey Dent. Is that-”

He was interrupted again by her laughter.

“Harvey? Lord no! He was a means to an end, nothing more.” She smiled indulgently at Ed, seemingly amused by his assumption. “If you’re really interested, I have my eye on someone else who needs to learn some independence before being wooed in a manner befitting her.”

The gender pronoun distracted him momentarily before his analytical mind quickly put together the clues.

“Harley?”

“Got it in one, Riddler.” She tilted her head. “Listen, if you prove patient and let Oswald have his space for now, I will let you know the day he’s expected back. Deal?”

Edward smiled gratefully across at her.

“Deal. And thank you. For taking care of him.”

Her expression finally softened into something kind.

“You’re welcome.”


	30. I Will One Way Or Other Make You Amends

Christmas at the Iceberg Lounge was always a spectacular event but Edward had very little attention to spare for any of the extravagant ice displays or flamboyant patrons. They did however provide him with excellent camouflage to sneak in past the bouncers. For once, habitually dressing in a bright green suit worked to his advantage as half the guests were similarly coloured.

Ivy had let him know that Oswald would be back in his club for the yearly Christmas Eve party and Edward had hastily put his plans into motion. Coming up with a significant gesture to demonstrate his contrition to Oswald hadn’t been quite as easy as he’d imagined. Firstly because the very last thing he wanted to do was put Oswald under any kind of spotlight.

It was the very public nature of their last encounter that had panicked Ed and for both their sakes he needed to avoid that from being an issue again. There was also the point that he had a tendency towards showing off and did not want to give Oswald any reason to believe _that_ was the only reason for his actions.

However he had finally decided on something symbolic which he hoped would at the very least show how serious he was about redressing his mistake. All he had to do was find his intended recipient of said gesture first.

Edward slipped his way quietly between the laughing crowds, trying to both keep his head down to avoid recognition and also to scan for any sight of the party’s host. It wasn’t easy with his hat tilted low shadowing his face but then his eye landed on the Penguin.

He had to blink twice before believing what he saw. Oswald was _slim_. Well, perhaps not _slim_ exactly, but all those pounds of soft curves were gone. He could be described now as merely chubby rather than portly. Padded rather than plump. Ed felt his heart lurch as he felt the guilt of Oswald’s new physique hit him.

The seconds he took absorbing the sight delayed his reaction and he suddenly realised Oswald was beginning to ascend to his office. He snapped himself into action and darted over, knowing that if he let the Penguin escape too far then he’d miss his chance. There was no way the club’s security wouldn’t notice the Riddler trying to make his way upstairs.

“Oswald!”

He wasn’t sure his voice would carry over the hubbub of the crowds but something in his tone must have cut through the background noise and caught Oswald’s ear. The man hesitated before turning slowly and glaring down at him. Despite the clearly hostile look, Ed still let out a breath of relief that the opportunity hadn’t been missed.

“Riddler. What do you think you’re doing here?”

Ed felt another surge of hope. The words might have been hissed from a point of height advantage but it proved Oswald was at least willing to talk. He hadn’t immediately called for him to be removed.

“I’m here to see you of course.” Edward kept his respectful place at the bottom of the stairs. “I wanted to apologise. And beg for another chance.”

“Another chance? Another chance at what?” Oswald turned his gaze away pointedly. “We clearly had different ideas as to what was going on between us.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I… really didn’t have a clue. But if I _had_… If I’d known Oswald, then I would have been over the moon.”

The suspicious gaze came back to him and Edward decided the moment had come for his big reveal. Reaching up he carefully removed his hat and cradled it to his chest. The reaction from Oswald was immediate.

“What have you done to your hair!?”

Riddler felt himself beginning to smile as Oswald automatically descended the few steps necessary to bring him on eye level with Ed’s bald head.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he parried, enjoying being close again.

Oswald snorted dismissively.

“I trimmed my hair. I didn’t shave it all off!”

“I liked your longer hair. It was elegant,” he purred back.

The compliment was not appreciated if Oswald’s scowl as he pulled back again was any indication.

“Fine. If you’re going to be evasive about it, I don’t need to know.”

Oswald made to turn to leave but Ed flung out his hand, almost catching his arm before stopping himself just in time.

“No. I don’t mean to… urgh… I’m no good at this Oswald.” He tried to convey his sincerity through his eyes and was relieved that Oswald at least was waiting for him. “I shaved my head as a sign of regret. A way of equalizing the embarrassment I caused you. I never meant to hurt you Os. I just… I was caught by surprise. That’s all.”

“So you… aren’t horrified by the thought of dating me? Or of anyone thinking you were dating me?”

“No! Not at all. I never thought _you’d_ want to date me!”

“Ed… how could you doubt that? We _were_ dating. Or at least _I_ thought we were. The dinners together, the trips out… And what about what I said in my letter? Why didn’t you even read it?”

The hurt tone in his voice broke something in Edward and he risked grasping Oswald’s hands.

“I couldn’t. They’d redacted practically everything you wrote. I was just left with a few brief words. Yet I still treasured the letter because it was from you.”

A reluctant smile pulled at Os’ lips.

“So… if you’d read it, that I wanted to kiss you…”

“I’d have been shocked but thrilled.”

Oswald rolled his eyes but it was with a great deal of affection.

“_How_ could you be so shocked? I was not being at all subtle.”

Ed matched Oswald’s growing smile with one of his own and delighted in the fact Oswald had not pulled his hands away.

“Because I’m a completely oblivious idiot?” he suggested.

“But you’re _my_ completely oblivious idiot,” Oswald agreed, finally turning his hands to grip Ed back.

“If you still want me.”

Oswald pursed his lips and pulled back a little to survey Ed’s shining head.

“I may request you grow your hair back. I was looking forward to petting it.”

“Once I’m sure I’ve convinced you. And only if you grow yours out too,” Ed immediately bargained. “I was very fond of those long locks. And it wouldn’t hurt if you wanted to relax the diet too.”

That clearly caught Oswald by surprise.

“You weren’t put off by my stomach?”

“Of course not! I loved you.” He blinked as he heard himself but ploughed on regardless. “All of you, whatever your figure. Whether you prefer being slim or fuller, if _you’re_ happy then _I’m_ happy.”

“Well… I wasn’t looking forward to sticking to Ivy’s healthy vegetarian diet over Christmas,” Oswald admitted.

Edward smiled and let himself relax as he looked at Oswald. He hoped Os felt as excited as he did about finally being together again. And on the same page this time.

Seconds later Oswald moved down the final steps and tugged Edward with him back into the throng.

“Come on. If you’re officially my boyfriend now you can be my plus one and help me make sure everyone enjoys their Christmas Eve.”

“With pleasure.”

Ed silently vowed to make sure the Penguin was not forgotten in that endeavour.


	31. I Would Not Wish Any Companion In The World But You

Ed had never experienced such a pleasant Christmas in his life, not that that was saying much really considering the competition. And he was sure that by Oswald’s usual standards it must have seemed a pretty quiet affair: no presents or games, just a sumptuous dinner and a movie. Yet to Edward it was perfect.

Or _almost_ perfect.

Truth be told, Ed hadn’t really considered the idea of gifts at Christmas, never being raised with that sort of expectation, and given the short notice he certainly wouldn’t have expected any from Oswald. Yet he had held out hope for one special token from him: a kiss.

However the opportunity never seemed to arise. When Riddler arrived Oswald was clearly too flustered and anxious for such a reception. So they made small talk and Ed allowed the atmosphere to relax over their leisurely meal. Part of him hoped that when transferring to more comfortable surroundings afterwards they might ‘accidentally’ pass under some mistletoe. Every Christmas movie he’d witnessed suggested it was nigh on an inevitability. Oswald obviously hadn’t been inspired to hang any though. Perhaps because he’d anticipated a Christmas alone, Ed reflected.

He considered making a move while they were relaxed together on the plush sofa, but when he stole the occasional glance towards his companion it was clear he was lost in the fiction they were watching. The last thing Ed wanted to do was startle him with an unexpected lunge. And it was actually pleasant to watch the man’s reactions to what were, to Ed’s eyes, sappy sentimental trash.

Yet when Oswald had eventually seen him to the door and stolen back almost shyly before Ed had the chance to lean in for a farewell peck, Ed finally realised his error. Oswald was still nervous of being the butt of another joke. He needed more of a guarantee than Ed’s verbal reassurance. The shaved head had clearly garnered him a measure of trust – Oswald was willing to keep an open mind – but Ed would now need to up his game.

Internally he resolved he would need to keep his head bald longer than previously anticipated, as a visible reminder for Oswald, but that didn’t unduly concern him. His priority was helping Oswald take that leap of faith with him. And for that he would need to get a little more pushy than he had been. Penguin was a stubborn bird after all and if Ed waited until he was one hundred percent confident they would both be old and grey.

Briefly he let his mind wander onto that concept; growing old and grey with someone. With Os. It was a warm thought to inspire his planning. Luckily for Ed, the ideal scenario for remoulding their relationship into what they both wanted it to be was just around the corner.

This time he didn’t need to sneak into the Iceberg, although the security were watching him with a degree more enmity than previously. It wasn’t as busy as he thought it might be – probably because the majority of crowds gathered at Gotham Square for New Year – but that might work to his advantage. He easily manoeuvred his way through towards Penguin’s private booth, ignoring the excited murmurs of the other evening’s guests.

It took Oswald a moment to notice his approach. His gaze had been focused on the large screen projection displaying the countdown for midnight while he idly drank what was probably champagne. Ed was gratified to see his face light up when he did spot him though.

“Edward! I wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you tonight.”

Ed smoothly slid in opposite, enjoying the brush of knees together under the table.

“Where else would I want to spend New Year’s Eve?” He grinned in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner. Oswald merely gestured with his glass to the screen.

“The Square?” he suggested.

Ed rested his chin on his folded hands.

“Are you there?” He received a confused blink and continued without awaiting a further response. “Why would I want to be anywhere you aren’t Ozzie?”

The nickname was a gamble but it won him an obviously pleased blush.

“Oh hush you! You’ve clearly had one too many already.”

The accusation momentarily hurt and Ed straightened immediately. Then he held his hand palm up before saying; “Not at all. I swear I haven’t had a drop.”

He almost spoiled the mood by challenging Oswald in turn before recalling himself. Penguin didn’t over indulge when supervising his club.

“Besides,” Ed relaxed again to lean on the table. “I wanted a clear head for tonight.”

“Oh,” Oswald visibly deflated. “You have a scheme going?”

“Not the way you’re thinking.” Ed licked his lips nervously before sliding one hand across to rest over Oswald’s. “I did have plans for starting my New Year right though.”

Opposite him, Oswald seemed frozen. Ed brushed his fingers soothingly back and forth.

“If you’re amenable… It really depends on you.”

When Oswald finally dragged his gaze back up to Ed’s, he looked more like a rabbit in the headlights than a criminal kingpin. Edward found himself holding his breath, desperate to encourage Oswald but terrified of making another mistake.

Seconds later a susurration in the room distracted Oswald and the intense stare was broken.

“Oh! It’s the countdown!”

He slid out of the seat, obviously intent on watching the event. Edward however was not about to let him avoid this. Certainly not when everything was so close to aligning perfectly. He slipped after him, catching his hand firmly so that Oswald’s gaze snapped back to him.

“Please Ozzie. My only New Year’s resolution is to do this relationship right. Help me start it over properly.”

As Oswald stared earnestly up at him, Ed shakily reached out and caressed his soft cheek. His heart stuttered when the action practically melted the man into his arms. Peripherally Riddler noted the final numbers counting away and, just as the crowd reached ‘one’, Oswald opened his eyes and Ed swept in for their first proper kiss.

He honestly couldn’t say how much of the buzzing came from the celebrations and fireworks around them and how much was just every pleasure synapse in his brain suddenly lighting up simultaneously. It took several minutes before he realised Ozzie was clutching him almost painfully tight and with a severe effort of will he broke them apart.

Oswald let out a disappointed whine at the action but Ed just smiled down at him, once again stroking his fingertips across his cheek, this time brushing over the pink lips.

“Don’t worry Ozzie.” He leant in and placed a chaste kiss against the flushed cheek. “That’s just the start.”

“Do you promise?” Oswald clenched his hands tighter in Ed’s lapels, crumpling the fabric, but Ed didn’t care.

“I promise. Tomorrow,” –he placed another kiss to the cheek– “and tomorrow,” –he repeated the action on the other side– “and tomorrow,” he landed his lips on the tip of Oswald’s nose. Anything further he would have said was cut off as Oswald firmly pulled him back and sealed their lips together again.


	32. If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On

“When you said you’d prepare for my visit this evening, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Oswald startled at the voice and looked up from where he’d just slammed the phone down.

“Eddie!”

“No need to sound so surprised.” Riddler slinked his way further into the penthouse suite, looking over the bullet riddled room. “You _were_ expecting me. Even if you have apparently had a visitor you weren’t expecting?”

He finally met Oswald’s gaze and arched his eyebrow in inquiry. Oswald huffed.

“That dratted Bat,” he explained. “Wanting to know the whereabouts of that flittery felon.”

It was Edward’s turn to huff as he leant himself on his question mark cane.

“I told you dealing with her was a bad idea.”

“It was an opportunity too good to pass up. I thought I could take her under my wing. Perhaps allow her to join my flock.” He glanced dispiritedly at his ruined furniture and consequently missed the flash of jealousy Edward’s face.

“Associates like _her_ you don’t need,” Ed said emphatically, moving deliberately closer.

“Far too risky,” Oswald agreed, missing the subtext. “She couldn’t take a hint either. I tried to warn her about birds of prey…” His shoulders slumped and he turned to his guest. “I’m sorry about this evening Eddie.”

Riddler blinked, momentarily sidetracked from his plan.

“What do you mean? It’s not your fault Batman has no concept of private property.”

“No but… This evening was supposed to be special. Romantic. You wanted to… well…” He broke off with an embarrassed blush.

Edward tilted his head to look at him.

“I believe I said I wished to take care of you.” The flush deepened on Penguin’s cheeks. Ed paused a moment to savour it before continuing. “And I see no reason why I can’t still do that.”

“But,” Oswald protested, throwing out a gesturing hand. “The bed is absolutely ruined! Shot to pieces with feathers everywhere. Not to mention the décor in here is rather more gangland than I prefer in my boudoir. That’s without considering the possibility of glass shards. And none of it will be put right until at least the morning-”

He was cut off by Ed’s hands landing squarely on his shoulders and Ed’s lips connecting firmly with his forehead.

“My anxious little bird,” he cooed. “Taking care of you can mean many different things. You should know by now I love word play and currently I believe it will involve getting you a calming drink and running you a bath.”

He could see Oswald swallow back whatever rant he’d been about to expel.

“But I thought…”

“I know what you thought. And I agree that was my intention in visiting. But circumstances change and I’d much rather wait for a better time than this. Right now, I simply want to care for you and spend some time together.”

“Whatever did I do to get so lucky?” Oswald smiled adoringly.

Edward basked in the love and affection a moment before rewarding it with a kiss.

“I think you were merely the only one willing to put up with me,” he suggested as he slowly retreated.

“Nonsense. You are more than worth the wait my dear.”

“As are you,” Ed countered quickly.

He then took a step back and left Oswald flustered in his wake as he strode towards the ornate bathroom.

“Besides,” he threw back over his shoulder with a grin. “The night is young.”


End file.
